The Writers Voice
Italian Poetries (32)
SOME POETRIES OF EVIDDA IN ENGLISH:
AN IMAGE OF LIFE:
AN ARTIFICIAL HOUR OF PARADISE:
YOU COME DAWN:
RADIATE OF MOON:
Moon, sole true light, that touches land in the night. Moon, alone you reassure
the children and chase the fear of the darkness to them. Moon, sole true light,
truth revealed. Moon, with your hawks, your face hidden, the your fourths, you
deceive the lovers and do him believer that the largest loves I am those done
not change again. Moon, from millennia the sighs of the fond muoiono over you.
Moon, truth revealed, lie unmasked. Moon, light, that does not give heat to the
We were so young. We felt us immortal or at least we did not think ever to the death. We were deaf to the slow apocalypses of the world, we were in continuous ferment, in perpetual motion and certain evenings the streetlights danced to the ritmo of the wind, to our eyes stayed still alone the firmament.
I look at the wall. It appears the tail of a lizard, appears the back of scales... and in the interstices of the hedge already I do not see it. ..like if with a rapid flash, a quick moviment of small legs was freed itself in a tunnel; like if the crossroads of the livid colors of the sunset, the I reflect of a flash of rays invisible revenue had it. Perhaps it is fled in a crack, in a dead zone of my eye, perhaps in a hole hidden, where it the plaster falls and it the lime emerges, escaping at my visa, now elusive.
THE TRUTH OF THE HEART:
Fathers and sons, brothers and sister to see
THE FREEDOM OF THELMA AND LOUISE:
The normality already closed the beating to the hour of the coprifuoco. The bus in the lethargy of the depot. The trains stop in a dead platform. The car parked in the clearings are tarnished. In the rooms of hotel you can heard drops of sinks from the trims routes, and sighs of pleasure. And themselves do not go around angels in the angles, girl that you pursue the freedom of Thelma and Louise.
CAPTURE THE LIFE ?
To capture the life?
THE UNIVERSE OF THE DOUBT:
To the west of the apathy, to the east of the sadness, to the north of the fog, to the south of the feeling. .... to the center of me same? and a beaten some mind collected distant images in an indeterminate dead point inferior. .. the lights of these fake choir.... the universe of the doubt is restricted and expanded.... like the universe of the physical moderns.
OF PASSAGE ON THE PLANET LAND:
Waterproof membrane, breaks irremediable, seed of the cosmos, dissolute filament in the time, energy imprisoned about, energy that goes out outside from my matter, of passage on the planet land.
THE RIVER AND THE CHILDREN:
The river runs slowly. The wind moves the glass of the house. The river runs slowly. It drags with dead sŤ leaves, stories passed, current things. The river runs slowly. The eyes of the children greet the running one.
What hoops in what call love?
EVERY DILEMMA OF THE PAST:
I do not sigh ever on the look of a passerby, on the looks of bank of game crossed from the window with the girl sat on the train of the binary parallel. I do not sigh, dwelling itself to every dilemma of the past, thinking about what was able to be and did not be. Not to ask itself ever as it would have been the destiny in a place just seen, where the train never stopped; or in the town from the bei geraniums that ever saw us and that ever will see us. Not to ask itself ever if will stay something of lasting to our departure. Not to ask itself ever what hand of angelo or what fragment of our dream setbacks the shadow of the dead one from our sleep.
BEYOND THE FORMALITY AND THE HYPOCRISIES ???
You want perhaps to go beyond the formality and the hypocrisies and the fake smile or of circumstance and of the hands sweat that squeeze other hands for interest and suitability? You want perhaps to fight you alone the arrogance and the appearance and the superficiality? You want perhaps to go the substance? You are a crazy one!!!! You do like the majority: not to research will authenticate it. How many persons that you know think that are arranged to undertake a so difficult journey, that carries so distant?
I listen to without to understand. I smile without to laugh. I wilt without to cry. I speak without to say. I look at without vision. But to times looking at me in the mirror it seems me even of to distinguish a human being.
BEYOND MY HORIZON:
Beyond my horizon the replies that I have not. Beyond lives of millions my horizon and of looks that I do not know. Beyond all my horizon what ever was, that ever I will be
THE AIR OF THE SPRING:
There where it ends the rainbow. There where they flower and they nests of swallows are born. There to smell the air of the Spring, between the colors of party of the roads of the world.
A BREATH OF LIGHT:
Now weak thread , a breath of light, spread the warmth on the edge of gold, dies on an ear of grain.
NOT TO THINK US:
To be and to become. Identity and change. Stasi and motion. Sole and complex. To want and to have. Loss and possession. No. Not to think us. For itself not to times you suffice do not to claim nothing from the things and from the other, from this moon between the branches.
Hope and awaited,
>From the window of the train the landscapes had the color of my moods and of my spirit, because then- seas or rivers, plains or you ascend- to the end all of the journey are inner.
The maturity has the I turn dug, is a luggage of coconut palms and of shining pieces; but for escape, consolation, euphemism they give the name of experience. Maturity and experience.
We are more being at a distance
That still train on that dead platform,
Too times i envy the stone, because exists without the anxiety of the live. Then i think that also the stone, if had conscience, enould our vital breath.
THE PERFUME OF YOUR HAIR:
A day corsed the dust.
ON THE DARK SIDE OF THE ROAD:
Itself exchange the confortable one with the necessary one. It is run to arrive and who is stopped on the dark side of the road becomes invisible.
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