November 27, 2024 1:24 am

Meeting Bench

THE CLASSICISM OF THE TWENTIETH-CENTURY – Mario Sironi: the man who knew rework old models, through the synthesis of the forms

MARIO SIRONI 1/4 – That child will become man devoted to art, it will be a creative arts-oriented units, according to ethical and civil. He was born in May in a special house. In fact, in his family there are architects, artists, musicians. Reading Schopenhauer and Leopardi, but also playing Wagner, even as a child he passionate about the design. …

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WALTZ – Poetry, by Adam Zagajewski

WALTZ They are so bright day, so clear, that the carelessness of white powder covering even the rare slender palm trees. Snakes glide silently in the vineyards, but in the evening the sea becomes darker and the seagulls suspended in the air barely move, punctuation of a higher wrote. On your lips a drop of wine. The limestone mountains on …

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ONE HEARS STILL THE SEA – Poetry, by Salvatore Quasimodo

SI ODE ANCORA IL MARE > Già da più notti si ode ancora il mare, lieve, su e giù, lungo le sabbie lisce. Eco d’una voce chiusa nella mente, che risale dal tempo. Ed anche questo lamento assiduo di gabbiani, forse d’uccelli delle torri, che l’aprile sospinge verso la pianura. Già mi eri vicina tu, con quella voce. Ed io …

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TAKE ME ALONG EMPTY BOULEVARDS – Poetry, Boris Ryžhy

TAKE ME ALONG EMPTY BOULEVARDS Take me along empty boulevards, tell me about some nonsense, vaguely pronounce a name. The street lights mourn the summer. Two lampposts mourn the summer. Rowan bushes. A wet bench. My love, stay with me until dawn, then leave me. Remained like a shadow blurred, I will roam here a while ‘, will remember everything, …

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TAKE ME WITH YOU – Poetry, Attilio Bertolucci

PORTAMI CON TE > Portami con te nel mattino vivace, le reni rotte l’occhio sveglio, appoggiato al tuo fianco di donna che cammina come fa l’amore. Sono gli ultimi giorni dell’inverno a bagnarci le mani, e i camini fumano più del necessario, in una stagione così tiepida. Ma lascia che vadano in malora, economia e sobrietà, si consumino le scorte …

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I CAN NOT GIVE MORE – Poetry, by Pedro Salinas

IO NO PUEDO DARTE MAS > Yo no puedo darte más. No soy más que lo que soy. ¡Ay, cómo quisiera ser arena, sol, en estío! Que te tendieses descansada a dascansar. Que me dejaras tu cuerpo al marcharte, huella tierna, tibia, inolvidable. Y que contigo se fuese sobre ti, mi beso lento: color, desde la nuca al talón, moreno. …

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MARKUS CSABA, HUNGARIAN-AMERICAN PAINTER – Mortal woman and mythological goddess: the eternal feminine in its many forms

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TEXTURES AND INTRICATE DETAILS – The great painting horizon of Markus Csaba

MARKUS CSABA 1/4 – Hungarian born and American artist. He is painter and sculptor. As an artist, he works in the field of printmaking, but his work includes oil painting, drawing, glass art and photography. Traveling – also in the creativity – it does not matter where to go, but very matter that the horizon is great. MARKUS CSABA 2/4 …

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WADERS AND CARETTA CARETTA – Ponta do Ervatao and the encounter with the magic of nature. Boavista Island, Cape Verde

If you want an internet café you can go to Criola Gelateria, or at the Surf Center. I’ll wait at the beach, because the island Boavista offers us the possibility of an incredible hike, towards the Sanctuary of the Turtles. We’ll have to go over Curral Velho, looking the beaches of Praia de Joao Barrosa and Ervatao. Just in that …

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TIME LOVERS – FrantiÅ¡ek Hrubín Poetry

TIME LOVERS You wrap on the finger straw, there on the finger, where you dreamed a gold ring. I still conversed with the sun, and you already impallidivi in the moon. Behind us, suddenly he began to rustle. And posasti the shadow head, on its leaves. Capello after the hair, it took you. It only for the burning nettles, jealousy …

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