La più amata

Si muove il frassino
il vento lo possiede
perpendicolare all'asse
della stella antica
da Dio la più amata.




Non mi adeguerò
al banale e sordo
scorrere dei secoli:
morirò affamato
nel freddo porpora.

Lion

The snout of the Lion
well-known by my eyes
is in front of
my face

It's mute but for me
it's going on speaking
along all these years
of cold

Oh as I see its front
it's like I'm newborn
it's like I am never
fallen

I cry with no reason 
because the real wisdom 
has not the attribute of time 

It's time to change reason 
I'm not a sad widow 
that has lost his love of life 

This absolution is in the sky 
of summer of abundant shine 
Can be the Lion back this time? 

The mouth of the Lion
half opened half closed
it's for me synonymous
of wisdom

I know I have closed
the door or it's not
the truth that I need
to hold on

And as I watch its nose
even if made by stone
I feel that prodigy
can return

I cry with no reason 
because the real wisdom 
has not the attribute of time 

It's time to change reason 
I'm not a sad widow 
that has lost his love of life 

This absolution is in the sky 
of summer of abundant shine 
Can be the Lion back this time?

Nella foto: faccia di leone al museo etrusco di Chiusi (AR)

The stone writes the path of the faith

The stone writes the path of the faith
because it cannot be erased
that's why in this place I feel so strong
holy caves and holy peaks among

The stone teaches to be well based
the woods and the trees are the prayers
I find into my soul the presence
of all the sacred elements

I want to clarify clarify my mind 
I want to purify purify my soul 
it's the only way to go on walking 
it's the only way to remain me 

I feel here the essence of God
praying is a prompt attitude
that's why I am used to return
into this big temple of stone

I want to clarify clarify my mind 
I want to purify purify my soul 
it's the only way to go on walking 
it's the only way to remain me 

Monastero de La Verna (AR), 22 agosto

I have not reached the stone

It's almost twenty years that I come here
in this day full of hope and of fear
I've played with my life, I've played with my voice
but I am still here

It's almost twenty years that I come here
it is my church my temple in the years
the trees are angels, the wind my prayers
and I am part of this

I have not reached the stone 
the night is dark and the animals are strong 
the fear is still so close 
to my heart and I've still so many things of me to know 
What else to say? 
I am not so brave 

It's almost twenty years that I come here
in this strange birthday night's already here
This is the place, where I meet myself
the man or the boy

I have not reached the stone 
the night is dark and the animals are strong 
the fear is still so close 
to my heart and I've still so many things of me to know 
What else to say? 
I am not so brave

Helical rising of Sirius

Helical rising of Sirius we wait for
and the sun sinks us with its pure light of gold
there is something sacred
after the millennia
that we cannot explain
but that we can live within
like our ancestors

Helical rising of Sirius is power
that can inflame the sky of east as powder
we are sons of the lights
as we celebrate
the end and the begin
the hope is the real key
it's our mentor

And as we know 
that there is still a sacred sense 
into the present and from the past 
as to the future 
it's a miracle 

And we can live 
this shining moment in the time 
looking at the snake of light 
creeping among stones 
into the circle 

And from the roof I see the star as first
and from that moment begins another beat
on the fire the ground
can make us allowed
to go where it is right
it will heal us tonight
into this new temple

And as we know 
that there is still a sacred sense 
into the present and from the past 
as to the future
it's a miracle 

And we can live 
this shining moment in the time 
looking at the snake of light 
creeping among stones 
into the circle

To where you belong

Da quassù la pianura sembra lontanissima. Un altro mondo. Che quasi mi sembra di percepire l'antico confine, ancestrale punto di separazione fra l'antico popolo dei friniati e i romani. I boschi sacri e selvaggi contro l'ordine elevato a divinità. Lontana come quel tempo. Lontana come il profumo dolciastro dei caffè di Teheran, alla deriva da questo occidente impazzito. Lontana come il profumo di quella carta con cui venivano foderate le mensole delle credenze, nella casa in montagna. Che ogni tanto mi torna alla mente. Lontana come sono io da me stesso in questo periodo. Non so chi sono e dove sto andando. E a volte, mentre corro e il sudore mi fa piangere le sopracciglia, mi pare perfetto così. Lontana come mia sorella, sangue e viso come i miei, eppure separata da me da secoli di pensieri opposti. Vorrei tornare verso me stesso. Ma non ne conosco più la direzione. Vorrei almeno dire di averci provato. Diminuire questa immensa lontananza. Tra me e il luogo a cui appartengo. “Say you tried, take it back To where you belong”. Eppure sembra così vicino quel passato durante il quale, per tornare alle nostre case, così immensamente piene di solitudine, attraversavamo quei campi verdissimi. Ed eravamo davvero a casa. “We saw the green fields Turn into homes Such lonely homes”. 

Le parti inglese sono tratte da “Last song” (Damon Albarn / Marianne Faithfull)

Tremula

La stanchezza segna il viso
e rende tremula la mente
l’anima si addormenta
in attesa di ossigeno.

Lo spreco di questo tempo
maestoso e potente
è il peccato mortale.