SMELL OF RAIN: Poetry, by Rodolfo Alonso
SMELL OF RAIN The air door suddenly memories from oblivion, with horizon flavor, wet grass and absence. Diffuse color and sharp, almost like masterless, mask or inhabitant, limpid workforce, highly ethereal. Spirits, spirit, traces of memory that runs in his blank saturated: fires, bodies, the, tracks, words. (Rodolfo Alonso) http://www.amazon.com/The-Art-Keeping-Quiet-1952-2011/dp/1784630330 http://www.amazon.com/Defensa-Coleccion-hispanoamericanas-Spanish-Edition/dp/9508432055 http://www.amazon.it/rumore-mondo-Poesie-scelte-1952-2007/dp/8895884140/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1441178452&sr=1-1&keywords=Doppiofondo+-+Poesia
Read More »TIMELESS BOOKS: Fictions, by Jorge Luis Borges
FICTIONS A collection of stories, words coming from a time long gone, but the two sides in which the book is divided (The Garden of Forking Paths, and artifices). By reading, you will discover that we live postponing everything that can be put off, imagining new pages where “think” is to forget differences, to generalize and abstract, between the scent …
Read More »CANDIDO PORTINARI (1903/1962), BRAZILIAN PAINTER: From the art of the Renaissance, to the shades of Expressionism, between Europe and the indigenous culture
IS YOU: Poetry by Paulo Coelho
IS YOU I push me beyond my limits, and I feel fully live my own life. In you I met myself and I looked over, beyond unimaginable limits. I looked deep into your eyes, trying to understand you, but I saw everything about me, I never wanted to see. I saw my weakness and my insecurity, my guilt and my …
Read More »TIMELESS BOOKS: Macunaima, by Mário de Andrade
MACUNAIMA In the tale, MacunaÃma travels from his home tribe in the jungle to São Paulo to Rio de Janeiro. Inside this novel, youcan find the special melding of the cultures of Brazil, your way to know language, culture, folklore, and music of the indigenous peoples in Brazil. Tapanhumas, Jiquê and Maanape (but also Piaimã, Ci and Vei), waiting fou …
Read More »MY LOVE IS A RED ROSE – Poetry of Robert Burns
MY LOVE IS A RED ROSE My love is a red red rose, bloomed in June, recently. My love is a song, the sweet sweet sound. You are beautiful, my fair one, and I, so in love that I will love you always, until the seas dry up, until the seas dry up and the rocks will melt in …
Read More »WALKING IN THE ENCHANTMENT: Florence, all the nuances of emotion
Beside a river, in the old Renaissance walls, between ancient craft shops and monuments of incredible beauty, I have known the nuances of enchantment. That city is Florence, a living painting, full of color and full of charm. My story is that of a short weekend – far away in time, but close in my memory – where I had …
Read More »WHEN THE MUSIC BECOMES POETRY – The sound of silence, by Simon & Garfunkel
THE SOUND OF SILENCE Hello, darkness, my old friend, I’ve come to talk with you again, Because a vision softly creeping, left its seeds while I was sleeping, and the vision that was planted in my brain, still remains within the sound of silence. In restless dreams I walked alone, narrow streets of cobblestone, beneath the halo of a street …
Read More »Hans Holbein the Younger (1497/1543), German painter: The greatest portraitists of the 16th century
JORGE GONZALES CAMARENA (1908/1980), MEXICAN PAINTER: Painter and muralist, not only on the cover of free textbooks
WITH DEPARTURE FROM CECILIA METELLA: Rome, where the sun paints of gold, even a simple walk
That road was built for many years, becoming a valuable link between the Adriatic Sea and the East. If you are in Rome, I invite you to take a walk particular, very, very different from the usual ones. The Via Appia Antica is full of interesting things (archeology and nature), because through the area of the Caffarella – amazingly – …
Read More »FANTASY – Poetry, by John Keats
FANTASY Leave always wandering the fantasy, the pleasure is always elsewhere: and is dissolved, only to touch, sweet, as bubbles when rain hits. Let her then wander, her, the winged, for thinking that front yet, in it extends. Opens you the door to the cage of the mind, and, you will see, it will launch flying into the sky. (John …
Read More »WHEN THE MUSIC BECOMES POETRY: Wish you Were Here, by Pink Floyd
WISH YOU WERE HERE So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell? Blue skies from pain? Can you tell a green field, from a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil? Do you think you can tell? And did they get you trade, your heroes for ghosts? Hot ashes for trees? Hot air for a cool breeze? …
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