Meeting Benches World art in all forms
IF – Poetry by Rudyard Kipling
IF If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs and blaming it on you, if you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, but make allowance for their doubting too. If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, or being hated, don’t give way …
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JEANNE HEBUTERNE (1898/1920), FRENCH PAINTER: The artistic community of Montparnasse, the meeting with Modigliani, a short dying life
WHEN THE MUSIC BECOMES POETRY – Luciano Ligabue: I feel you
I FEEL YOU I feel you, in the air that has changed, that anticipates the summer, and I cooled down a little. I feel you pass me in the back. Life does not rhyme, for what I do know, I feel you in the middle of a verse, a piece that was floppy, and now it no longer is. I …
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BERTHE MORISOT, (1841/1895), FRENCH PAINTER: A great-grandson of art, Paris and a meeting with Manet and Guichard. Impressionist born a woman
WHEN YOU WILL NOT BE LONGER PART OF ME: William Shakespeare, “Romeo and Juliet” Act 3, Scene 2
WHEN YOU WILL NOT BE LONGER PART OF ME When you are no longer part of me I’ll want to cut out from your memory so many little stars, then, the sky will be so beautiful that the whole world will love the night. (William Shakespeare) http://www.amazon.co.uk/Juliet-Wordsworth-Classics-William-Shakespeare/dp/1840224339 http://www.amazon.it/Romeo-Giulietta-William-Shakespeare/dp/8804499397
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SERAPHINE DE SENLIS (1864/1942), FRENCH PAINTER: The fragrant liminal boundaries of creative dream
WHEN THE MUSIC BECOMES POETRY – It has never an error, by Raf
IT HAS NEVER AN ERROR I look at you for the last time, as I go on. I hear you breathe, do not take the snapshot. I do not bring no trace in me, nothing that I will have to remove. If you’ve played you are the same, though now it hurts. If you loved was not love, it is …
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NOTHING: Poetry of Fernando Pessoa
NOTHING The angels were looking for her, found her at my side, there where her wings had guided. The angels came to take her away. She had left their home, their day clearer, and had come to live with me. She loved me, because love just loves imperfect things. The angels came from the top, and took her away from …
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WHEN THE MUSIC BECOME POETRY – Angelo Branduardi: Welcome, my woman
WELCOME, MY WOMAN Welcome to my woman, welcome to my home, if you are tired now rests I’ll give you a drink. Welcome, my woman, welcome to my home, I will give you bread and roses and with me you’ll laugh. Welcome to my woman, welcome to my home, if you’re tired now rests welcome my woman. (Angelo Branduardi) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h7qdDCi0kw8
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YOU ARE MY SLAVERY, YOU ARE MY FREEDOM – Poetry, by Nazim Hikmet
YOU ARE MY SLAVERY, YOU ARE MY FREEDOM You are my slave, you are my freedom, You are my flesh burning as the naked flesh of the summer nights. You are my home you, with green highlights of your eyes you, high and victorious. You are my nostalgia of knowing how inaccessible at the very moment when I grab you. …
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THERE IS A PLEASURE IN THE UNEXPLORED WOODS – Poetry of George Gordon Byron
THERE IS A PLEASURE IN THE WOODS UNEXPLORED There is a pleasure in the unexplored forests, and ecstasy in deserted beaches, there is a company that no one can disturb at the deep sea, and music in its roar. I love not man the less, but Nature more, after these talks where I run away from what I am, or …
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CAMILLE PISSARRO (1830/1903), FRENCH PAINTER: The passion for drawing and the Academie Suisse, the wonder of painting en plein air
WHEN THE MUSIC BECOMES POETRY – Gino Paoli: The sky in a room
When you’re here with me, this room has no walls but trees, infinite trees. When you’re here with me, this purple ceiling, no, no longer exists. I see the sky above us, that we stay here, abandoned, as if, if there was nothing left, nothing left in the world. Harmonious sounds, like an organ that vibrates for you and for …
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FAREWELL – Poetry by Nazim Hikmet
The man says to the woman I love, and as if I hold in my palm heart, like broken glass, which I bloodied the fingers, when he broke madly. The man says to the woman I love, and as with the depth of kilometers, with the immensity of kilometers, one hundred percent, a thousand percent, one hundred times the infinitely …
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