I wrote this today:
We are
Nothing more
Nothing less
We are what we are
What else could there be
Than a deeper understanding of our own beingness
We become the awakened
One can really see what is circling around in my brain nowadays)))
I guess there are more room for writing now that I have managed not to be panicking about not writing:)
5 comments:
This song is dedicated to Ugo Foscolo a hero of the italian pre-Risorgimento, one of the gifted italian translators of the Iliad of Homer from greek into italian, keeping the metrics of the greek masterpiece and rhyming in the italian language.
In his youth, Ugo Foscolo was seduced by the european dreams of greatness and glory of Napoleon Bonaparte and fought as a cavalryman as one of the 40,000 italian soldiers who went to Russia with Bonaparte, very few of these returning to tell their story.
He was a gifted but unfortunate poet and had to seek the protection of liberal England from the oppression and rigours of the Austro-Hungaric Empire which dominated and controlled all Italy.
He died in poverty in London cared-for by his only illegittimate daughter from a de facto marriage.
I wish to quote from one of his famous Sonnet " To Evening "-:
"Forse perche' della fatal quiete tu sei l'imago,
a me tu vieni o Sera............................................."
" Perhaps because of that final eternal rest you are the image,
to me so dearly werlcome are oh Evening........................................
A.L.Ferreri sub-dedicates his song ' To Evening" to Luthien, his norwegian nymph, the sister of Ludwige.
To Evening.
So much like unto the image of death
evening's dark shroud to me appears
welcome as silence and memories
in its wake ghostly-like appear.
Suddenly I grab at memories
and gasps and moanings soft
by little sharp cries puntilled,
I hear
urgently rising, quickening,
in the empty darkness
like the ghostly drummings
of two hearts which
one single ghost-like form
have begun to appear.
Dear reader,
of whichever gender you may be,
it is but your ghostly self
that all the while
your own memories and love dear
in your own mind
have within these lines
made to you ghost-like,
appear.
P.S. Dear Luthien, you are to me just an e thereal nymph
( Musa or Diva ispiratrice, inspiress of poets in the ancient greek and latin tradition). I am 69, therefore harmless and a purely platonic, unpretending, unscheming admirer of yours, with your permission of course, a permission I am rudely assuming. After all, here in my country of adoption ( I belong to the italian culture, a De Ferrerii( Ferrarii )), I am supposed to be a rude no-nonsense, but honourable Templar called Ferrerix Australix.
In the BigPond Community we have a good poet, the mysterious David ( he does not reveal much about himself, probably to impress women), probably your age-: hppt://www.keatspace.bigpond.com.au/index.do
You might find his poetry good. I think he is a bit too gaseous and levitational, without enough substance. But I like his lightness. I cannot be light, and my poetry is like a Roman Legion, overwhelming. I love your writings. Unexperienced but promising. Perhaps you might benefit from David. If you feel annoyed by my intrusions or have a jealous, suspicious lover, please let me know and I shall just disappear. but I love you as my grecian nymph (norwegian?).
Dear norwegian nymph,
I discovered that if you double click my icon or avatar ( some americans call it by this name), it expands in size and my profile appears from my Home Page. I thought it might interest you.
Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
I like this partying salutation a lady who calls herself Yachty Grotty uses. She and her husband, Hubby live with two cats on a yacht ( actually a Dutch type of flat boat) somewhere in Queensland's waters. Very colourful and crazy. She is 47. I live with one cat SHIMBA I inherited from my departed father Walter. This makes her my MOTHER. I have a lady-friend, an australian n called Valerie, who visits me on week-ends and cares for me. She is my Perpetua ( like the Priest's carer}. I recently acquired the best neighbour of my life, an australian unattached lady called Julia who is fanatically in love with Italy and Europe. Since I am a( modestly )very cultured if rough man of italian culture she accepts me. She made me figs-jam and peaches-jam. The figs were from my own tree.
As I said above, say but the words and I shall disappear.
Having you as my nymph helps my poetry.
Yeah, panic can ruin many a good thing. ;)
Luthien, you are indeed a mysterious nymph, in spite of your youth, as I am surprised at how you have not erased this offering of mine. Nymphs are in fact generally divine beings and therefore eternal and in their 30s-40s as they are also supposed to be wise and all knowing! I have actually enlarged this writing on the Google-blog to make it appear more classical and exacting.
I must correct Foscolo's lines-:
Forse perche' della fatal quiete tu sei l'imago, a me si' cara vieni oh Sera.......
Next time I shall transcribe for you all the words of Gianni Morandi's song-:
Vedrai che il Mondo cambiera'.
You'll see, the World shall change.
Vedrai che il mondo
You'll see the world
cambiera', le sue ferite
shall change, its wounds
guarira', l'amore no non puo'
it shall heal, love no, it cannot
morire, sarebbe come dire,
die, it would be as if to say,
che questa e' la fine.
that this is the end.
Vedrai la notte finira',
You'll see, the night shall end,
vedrai, e l'uomo si
you'll see, and man
risvegliera', con gli occhi e
shall become awake, with the eyes and
il cuore di un bambino
the heart of a child
che non puo' tradire, mai.
who can never ever betray.
Take care my nymph and investigate the causes of your lack of energy, before it becomes a vicious circle and people say or think you are lazy. You do not want to be branded. Go to a heart specialist. Generally, a special x-ray picture is required and an analysis by a special specialist.
Let me know please.
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