POETRY

She only had time to condense herself in 18 years of his life, but what they gave us – written in French, and in rhyming couplets or alternate – is her immense love for the things written. Julia had done his studies at the Sorbonne in Paris, attending the Faculty of Philosophy and Letters, but by the age of 5 …

“I do not expect anything. I fear nothing. I am free.” If you want to know where to find this phrase engraved, you have to go in the island of Crete. If you are also curious about the author, you can read me here, where I will talk you about two books – from which two film are born – …

“Sir, please do not tell me that, when you go away, love denied me crying because seeing me already extinguished the fire, the water had no place to temper it somewhat; indeed say that was pretty much at that point the ardor that made dry mood; and I could not show my worth with the bitter tears, so that my …

À MADAME X:  EN LUI ENVOYANT UNE PENSÉE Au temps où vous m’aimiez (bien sûr ?), Vous m’envoyâtes, fraîche éclose, Une chère petite rose, Frais emblème, message pur.   Elle disait en son langage Les « serments du premier amour » : Votre cœur à moi pour toujours Et toutes les choses d’usage.   Trois ans sont passés. Nous voilà …

I BELIEVE, THROUGH A WHISPERING This is languorous ecstasy, This is the love fatigue, This is all the thrills of wood Among the embrace breezes, This is, to the gray branches, The chorus of little voices. O frail and fresh murmur! This twitters and whispers, It looks like the soft cry The rough grass expires … You say under water …

TRIUMPH OF BACCHUS AND ARIADNE   How beautiful is youth, who flees though! Who wants to be happy, either : tomorrow there is no certainty . This is Bacchus and Ariadne is this , beautiful , and the other is one of the burning : because time is running out and deceives , together they are always happy. These nymphs …

LOVE   What I have in my heart, burning like our age, I dare you speak, how to define it? Is it a burning mirror hit your picture? A thrilling portrait born of your memory?   See! I think it’s you, even in your absence, In sleep; eh what! can you still watch? This overwhelming happiness that gives your presence, …

Do not write. I am sad, and I would turn me. Beautiful summer without you, this is the night without a torch. I closed my arms cannot reach you, And hit my heart is knocking at the tomb.                  Do not write! Do not write. Do not learn to die to ourselves. God asks only that … you, if I …

ISABELLA MORRA: Clipped wings   Seeing that desire beautiful, You have clipped wings, that stood in my heart, cruel Fortune, so that all of your sake I live fast, I will say this style rough and brittle a part of my inner evil caused only by you of these plugs, between these bitter costumes of irrational people, devoid of wit, …

VAGUENESS OF LOVE From the diary-illustrated atlas TRAVEL IN ITALY, published by Meeting Benches in e-book format from March 20, 2014 (English and Italian language versions of) its own page, with a poem and a picture of Veronica Franco: “I am so vague, and so my beloved converse with those who know how to have more opportunity to learn, that, …