mercoledì 21 agosto 2019

Nineteenth of August

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Nineteenth of August
the wood is burning
some smell of autumn
it is my birthday

Mountains are dried
under the sun
owl is in silence
my time is running

And when the sunset starts to cry 
behind the holy west 
I prepare myself to die 
inside my native nest 

This is the most sacred time for me 
and I have to stay here 
I was here this day for twenty years 
and I know I will be 

August nineteenth
my birthday candles
were blown out by wind
my life I can't handle

And when the sunset starts to cry 
behind the holy west 
I prepare myself to die 
inside my native nest 

This is the most sacred time for me 
and I have to stay here 
I was here this day for twenty years 
and I know I will be

domenica 18 agosto 2019

Ventre

Labirinti di roccia
nel ventre della terra
ancora sussurrano
voci dal passato
chi per un sorso di sole
moriva d'oscurità.


Miniere di Gambatesa

giovedì 15 agosto 2019

Labirinti d'ossa

So ancora rinchiudermi:
palpebre serrate
anima microbica

Nei labirinti d'ossa
le vostre facce deformi
grondanti d'ipocrisia
non riescon a osservarmi.

venerdì 9 agosto 2019

Even if it is summer

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The fog covers the mountains
even if it is summer
I remember that old song
written so many years ago
when I thought everything could happen in my life
when I thought everything was going to become gold

It is cold and it's raining
even if it is summer
life is changed so much
that I can't recognize
if it is the one I have planned in my past
if it is still what I can feel my life in part

I've always prayed 
when the rain 
even if it's summer came 

Remembering 
I was so weak 
and I can be that boy still 

I remember her voice
covering all the noise
singing my song so well
that I bewared myself
and the fog on summer still inspires some words
even if I am dried and I am become old

I've always prayed 
when the rain even 
if it's summer came 

Remembering 
I was so weak 
and I can be that boy still

28th July 2019

martedì 6 agosto 2019

Grondan le veneziane










Ho ferito il tempo
sotto il sole obliquo
impietoso spettatore
della mia umanità.

Grondan le veneziane
di luce scomposta
mentre dieci anni
scorron tra le pagine
e le lettere sbiadite.

Siamo istanti disperati
in cerca d'eternità.

sabato 3 agosto 2019

Les beaux jours

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Les beaux jours sont quand les rêves ne sont plus là
Les beaux jours sont quand la pluie danse une marche
dans les arbres

Les beaux jours sont quand je peux voir des images
qui sont runes écrites par Dieu avec les nuages
dans le ciel

C'est seulment un peu d'automne 
en pleine été 
Je proclame l'abandon 
de la banalité 
le monde approche de votre sentiment 

La pluie sur ces montagnes 
est une bénédiction 
Je vois la petite araignée 
voler sur l'eau 
le monde entier change en un instant 

Les beaux jours sont quand je suis moi un peu plus
et quand tu arrêtes de dire ton “J'accuse”
comme toujours

C'est seulment un peu d'automne 
en pleine été 
Je proclame l'abandon 
de la banalité 
le monde approche de votre sentiment 

La pluie sur ces montagnes 
est une bénédiction 
Je vois la petite araignée 
voler sur l'eau 
le monde entier change en un instant

mercoledì 31 luglio 2019

The only possible harvest

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The only way for me
the only possible harvest
it is to stay here
close to the wood in this garden

It's where I was born and where I seeded the earth
It's where I was called back when I lost my heart

What is the harvest 
if not a perspective 
to join the future 
in a different way 

What is the harvest 
the blood on the wheat field 
to understand that 
something is changed 

The only place to be
during this night of harvest
I know I've many things
to catch and to leave to others

It's where I belong, among the spirits I know
It's where I belong, among the fields that I know

What is the harvest 
if not a perspective 
to join the future 
in a different way 

What is the harvest 
the blood on the wheat field 
to understand that 
something is changed 

Night of Lughnasadh