TWELVE SHADES OF CREATIVITY

Poems and images that sum up twelve months

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In the cold of January, new dreams take flight.
I AM A LIAR – Poem by Nikos Kazantzakis, images by Dastilige Nevante:
“I am a liar, hypocrite, scary; I never tell the truth, I don’t have the courage. I see a woman go and blush, I lower my head but my eyes are full of immorality. Don’t knock, don’t kill, not because I want to but because I’m afraid. Fear. She is my mother, my father and my God.”

The cold of February, hearts warm with joy.
IF I COULD BE SURE OF YOUR LOVE – Poem by Veronica Franco, images by Dastilige Nevante:
“If I could be sure of your love to show what words and face, which often take soul of intervals indoors; If that holds that the mind itself collected has shown the footprints outside in such a way, that others have not often been taken deception, that fear uniform from me, of which when so I realized, simple and foolish, that I would have laughed: “A place for itself many roads have gone,” says the proverb; “nor is it safe point | turn behind appearances steps”.

March whispers spring, with buds in sight.
I AM ONE HUNDRED YEARS OLD – Poem by Nazim Hikmet, images by Dastilige Nevante:
“It’s been a hundred years since I saw her face that I have not spent my arm around her waist not that I have stopped in her eyes I have not questioned the clarity of her thought that I have not touched the warmth of her belly we were on the same branch together we were on the same branch fallen from the same branch we split between us and the time is a hundred years a hundred years the road and a hundred years in the shadow I run to you.”

April rains, the sweet power of nature.
WHERE THE RAINBOW ENDS – Poem by Richard Rive, images by Dastilige Nevante:
“Where the rainbow ends there will be a place, brother, where the world can sing songs of all kinds. We will sing together, black and white brothers, a song. And a handful of sadness. I don’t know why it’s hard to learn. But we will learn together there is a reason why they are both black, there is a reason why they are white. There is only music and we will sing music, brother, where the rainbow ends.”

May blooms brightly, in such clear colors.
DEAD WATER – Poem by Wen Yi Duo, images by Dastilige Nevante:
“This is the ditch of putrid water and despair, not a breath of breeze ruffles it. Better to throw in the rusty scraps and the pieces of copper, and without remorse even the leftovers of the meal. Perhaps the pieces of copper want to become green like jade, and the tin cans embroider a few peach blossom petals; may the grease make damask fabric above, and from the mold a pink cloud evaporates. May the stagnant water ferment and become a ditch of green wine, full of floating white foam that becomes a pearl; the laughing pearls become a large pearl, stolen and broken by the attack of midges. It is the river of despair, the dead water can even make a little clear water. If the frog cannot stand loneliness, perhaps a croak comes out of the stagnant water. This is the putrid water of the ditch and despair. This is not the place of beauty, then it is better that the wicked come and dig, and we will see what the world will bring out.”

The June sun dances, on such bright days.
IN THE DARK OF THE NIGHT – Poem by William Shakespeare, images by Dastilige Nevante:
“But who are you, that advancing in the darkness of the night stumbles into my most secret thoughts?”

The heat of July, the pure joy of summer.
I LOVE INSIDE OF YOU – Poetry Nazim Hikmet, images by Dastilige Nevante:
“I love you in the adventure of the ship that goes to the pole, I love you in the audacity of the great discoveries of the players, I love you in the distant things, I love you in the impossible. Inside your eyes as in a forest full of sun, sweaty and hungry angry I have the passion of the hunter, to bite your flesh. I love you in the impossible, but do not despair.”

The mist of August, golden fields in sight.
MOMENTS – Poem by Luis Borges, images by Dastilige Nevante:
“If I could live my life again, in the next one I would try to make more mistakes, I would not try to be so perfect, I would deny it more, I would be less serious than I was, in fact, I would take very few things seriously. I would be less hygienic, I would take more risks, I would take more vacations, I would contemplate more sunsets, I would climb more mountains, I would swim in more rivers, I would go places wherever I went, I would eat more ice cream and fewer beans, I would have more real problems and fewer imaginary ones. I was one of those people who lived sensibly, and every minute of his life; Sure I had moments of joy, but if I could go back I would try to have only good moments. In case you don’t know, what life is about, only moments, you don’t lose them today. I was one of those who never went anywhere without a thermometer, a hot water bottle, an umbrella and a parachute; if I could live my life again I would start walking barefoot in early spring, and continue to do so until late autumn. I would take more turns in my wheelchair, watch more sunrises and play with more children, if I had another life ahead of me. But look, I am 85 and I know I am dying.”

The breeze of September, the leaves take flight.
I WISH I HAD A QUIET CORNER – Poem by Rabindranath Tagore, images by Dastilige Nevante:
“I wish I could take a quiet corner in the heart of my child’s world. I know he has stars that talk to him and a sky that bends over his face to amuse him with its clouds and silly rainbows. Those who pretend to be mute and never seem to move, creep up to his window with their stories and trays of bright toys. I wish I could travel the road that runs through the child’s mind and pass every limit; where messengers run errands without cause among the realms of kings without history; where Reason makes kites of its laws and lets them fly, Truth frees Fact from its chains.”

The shades of October, in the light of autumn.
THE HAPPY SUN SHINES – Poem by Fernando Pessoa, images by Dastilige Nevante:
“The happy sun shines, the fields are green and joyful, but my poor heart pines for something far away. It pines only for you, it pines for your kiss. It doesn’t matter if you are true to this. All that matters is you. Now the sea shines in the summer sun. I know the waves are shining, each and every one. But I am far from you, and so far from your kiss! And that is all I get that is truly true in this. All that matters is you. Oh yes, the sky is beautiful, as blue as it is now, the air and the light blend, Oh yes, warm, anyway, none of this is you. I am absent from your kiss, that’s all I get of sad and true in this, all that matters is you.”

The cold of November, the nights by the fire.
THE BOYS WHO LOVE – Poem by Jaques Prevert, images by Dastilige Nevante:
“The boys who love to kiss standing against the gates of the night, and the passers-by who pass by mark them with their finger. But the boys who are in love, there are none, and it is their only shadow that trembles in the night, stimulating the anger of the passers-by. Their anger, their contempt, their laughter, their envy. The boys who are in love are none, they are much further away elsewhere in the night, much higher up on the agenda, in the dazzling splendor of their first love.”

The joy of December, in the light of the holidays.
THE FORMULA OF WATER – Poem and images by Dastilige Nevante:
“We are sun and moon. We are fish equal and different, buoys without mooring and bags full of sand. We are dry branches that touch each other, and happy moments. We are shadows on the sand, beached fish without water anymore. We are water on the same table, fragile boats waiting for the right wind.”