While fire is again on my skin

It's a long a time that I don't sing
as my voice has become just a sin
but I've so many things to sing
while fire is again on my skin

And every time I remember I can sing 
is when the autumn is behind the door 
and every time I surrender to my dreams 
is when I need to live into a new hope 

Now that I am so close to Samhain
and time is only a false belief
I can sail among the worlds to see
all the men I would have been

And every time I remember I can sing 
is when the autumn is behind the door 
and every time I surrender to my dreams 
is when I need to live into a new hope

Last night in Belfast city

Last night in Belfast city
what else that I should know?
If failure is now knocking at the door
The air is not yet freezing
and I am here alone
thinking of all the times
I have lost

Is there somewhere for me any peace? 
Or I will live forever in labyrinths. 

What am I living 
I don't know what is 
I suggest to myself it is the right way
I can't really say if it is the right play 

I am still singing 
even if rarely 
I have to show I am still a strong man 
while I am becoming only a desert land 

The people here seems to live
alone inside the crowd
running as they have to reach
highest clouds
Here I feel I'm a stranger
but at the same time
I feel I am here since I was alive

Is there somewhere for me any peace? 
Or I will live forever in labyrinths. 

What am I living 
I don't know what is 
I suggest to myself it is the right way 
I can't really say if it is the right play 

I am still singing 
even if rarely 
I have to show I am still a strong man 
while I am becoming only a desert land 

5th October 2018, Belfast (UK)

Tempo arato

Vuoto di carne
respiro osseo
le mie orme perse
nel tempo arato

Cornacchie

Cornacchie ancestrali
su campi antropizzati
piccola ferita di luna
sul fiore di malva:
gli occhi raccolgono
l'anima rammenda
i fili sparsi
di ottobre.

Over Manchester

Mi affido alle nuvole
fiato sacro
di dei arcaici
sopra quest'isola
antica di nomi
e di battaglie
tra pioggia e sole
riscopro di nuovo
il volto segreto
del mio spirito.

Over Manchester, UK - 30th September 2018

Frattura

Il vento è una frattura
nella quiete asettica
dopo il sacro equilibrio
cardinale, cromatico
le foglie precipitano
dalla luna occhio
tra le ciglia curve
della terra arida.

That's the way the west can become God

That's the way the summer says goodbye
with a so warm wind that makes me cry
that's the way the summer says goodbye
with a sun so pure that makes me blind

In this wood where the autumn seems so far 
I can look at my soul standing apart 
in the field where the harvest is the last 
hoping new season can't bring us to starve 

That's the way the west can become God
balancing the even with the odd
we are waiting for last summer gold
thinking what was right and what was wrong

In this wood where the autumn seems so far 
I can look at my soul standing apart 
in the field where the harvest is the last 
hoping new season can't bring us to starve 

Autumn equinox, Alban Elfed