The woodcutter

I am so sad oh wood
For being the one who took
The sacred trees of you

No I do not want to
Destroy your living truth
Under a sky so blue

I don’t forget the adolescence
When to escape the violence
That I had in my life
I’ve been in you for days
You have become my place
And you’re still in my heart

So sorry I’m oh wood
To steal your creatures
Me too belong to you

I would cut all my veins
All the trees watering
In the drought summer

But now I am the killer
And I feel as a sinner
Every time a tree falls
I can offer my prayers
As powerless as never
To heal your blessed wounds

Come back my treasure that I’m blind
Come back my ancient lullaby
I’m still a poor boy
Even if I am now a man
I’ve got my soul lost
But I’ve got nothing to pretend

Come back old miracle of gold
Through which I could fill all my bones
I’m still a preacher
Even if I’ve lost my path
I need a return
Where my faults can be melted

The noise here can remove
The quietness of the wood
And make so bad my mood

The sky does disapprove
With a grey almost gloom
Instead of the deep blue

It has to exist a knowledge
To make us to discover
A new brand kind of life
We have to look behind
Toward the ancient times
When wood was just a temple

Come back my treasure that I’m blind
Come back my ancient lullaby
I’m still a poor boy
Even if I am now a man
I’ve got my soul lost
But I’ve got nothing to pretend

Come back old miracle of gold
Through which I could fill all my bones
I’m still a preacher
Even if I’ve lost my path
I need a return
Where my faults can be melted

Nell’immagine: Vincent van Gogh 'Woodcutter'

Salt I will be

So I am a loser and I’m burning all my dreams
Without any fire
Only thinking of them

Or I can be a lover for an instant or a beat
Accepting a new bet
Maybe this the life…. Or not?

Waiting to see
Water to be
Melted
Salt I will be
To disappear
Forever
…is this our aim?

Don’t know if you’re evil or if you can be an angel
But you make me frightened
Am I almost nothing?

I am not enough to have a literacy heart
To control emotions
That are destroying oceans.. against me

Waiting to see
Water to be
Melted
Salt I will be
To disappear
Forever
…is this our aim?

Dubrovnik – Croatia – 22nd March 2012
Nella foto, vista al tramonto della baia di Dubrovnik

Made of water

The sun the last of winter
Behind the trees is whistling
As it suggested I’ve to write down its melody

So in this park of Zagreb
I steal pieces of patience
And I try to find inside the peace I need to write

The only thing you can do is to invent you
So many times that the truth can never reach you

‘cause we are shreds of paper in the fire of the life
We have to be of water not to burn for a while

So invent a new you and be surprised of you
‘cause being the same for a life means death for you

And if we’re made of water we can change with seasons
Being iced during the winter and holy rain in the springtime

The energy I’m missing
And that makes me so misery
It’s lost inside this constant bleeding of my mind and soul

Life gives few satisfactions
And less certain directions
Acceptance is the key to bring back my old purity

The only thing you can do is to invent you
So many times that the truth can never reach you

‘cause we are shreds of paper in the fire of the life
We have to be of water not to burn for a while

So invent a new you and be surprised of you
‘cause being the same for a life means death for you

And if we’re made of water we can change with seasons
Being iced during the winter and holy rain in the springtime

Paper cut of God

There’s the paper cut of God tonight
That is cutting off straight on the sky
And I can see the myths falling down on the soil
While all the holy stars are fixed in the cosmic boiling

Let me breed myself with poetry and life
‘cause my habits make me live famine
But my anatlon(1) is here for seas of oxygen
To make the anatia(1) big as the green newly land

Lugh(2) he is still sleeping
Arianrhod(3) is high
Turning her wheel in the sacred double colored sky
Moses goes on stealing
Osiris’ great science(4)
While the seven trees grow in holy wood silence(5)

Where is the pure wisdom?
You can find it going
Under the apple tree
On a warm Friday night
There you meditate
When the Moon is full and bright(6)

In my dreams I’ve seen a Gabriel(7)
Telling me Words are almost the same
From England to Israel, they reflect the gods’ spell
And while we pray or sing we have to thank spirits

Lugh he is still sleeping
Arianrhod is high
Turning her wheel in the sacred double colored sky
Moses goes on stealing
Osiris’ great science
While the seven trees grow in holy wood silence

Where is the pure wisdom?
You can find it going
Under the apple tree
On a warm Friday night
There you meditate
When the Moon is full and bright

Note:

1: Nell’antica lingua celtica “Anatlon” significa “respiro” e “Anatia” anima: l’etimologia comune ribadisce la stretta connessione fra il respiro e l’anima, in ogni tradizione.
2: Lugh è, nella tradizione irlandese, Dio celtico del sole e del raccolto
3: Arianrhod è, nella tradizione gallese, dea della luna e della ruota d’argento, che muove le stagioni
4: secondo molte interpretazioni, Mosè, fuggendo dall’Egitto, portò con sé moltissime conoscenze esoteriche dell’antichissima tradizione egizia, legata al Dio Osiride (vedi “Esodo”)
5: erano 7 gli alberi sacri del bosco celtico (betulla, salice, agrifoglio, nocciolo, quercia, melo e ontano)
6: dal libro di Giobbe: Giobbe chiede a Dio dove risiedano la sapienza e l’intelligenza e Dio gli suggerisce di andare a meditare sotto un albero di melo, durante un venerdì sera di luna piena per scoprirlo
7: Gabriele è il corrispettivo ebraico di Ermes, dio greco della poesia, araldo ufficiale dell’Olimpo

Run again our blood

The new sun it is melting my hopes
As it has just done here with the snow

I’m waiting for remaining alone
To steal so a spiritual blow

And I feel on my skin the warm wind
It has the same temperature of my tears

And in the air I hear the name of God
Someone is praying to change the own world
And I sense the bones trembling from the head to the toes
So I read some new kind of holy codes

Life leaves many things behind
I miss more than I gain sometimes

We are like the smoke on the roof
To the sky we go while we lose

But every springtime is made for us
To make run again our blood

And in the air I hear the name of God
Someone is praying to change the own world
And I sense the bones trembling from the head to the toes
So I read some new kind of holy codes