WHEN THE MUSIC BECOMES POETRY: Franco Battiato, “The Season of Love”
THE SEASON OF LOVE The season of love comes and goes, desires do not age almost never with age. If I think about how I misspent my time, that will not return, will not return. The season of love comes and goes, suddenly without realizing, the live, will surprise you. We have had occasions, losing them; not rimpiangerle not rimpiangerle …
Read More »WHEN THE MUSIC BECOMES POETRY: Franco Battiato, “And I come to you search”
AND I COME TO YOU SEARCH And I come to you search, just to see you or talk, because I need your presence, to better understand my essence. This popular sentiment, born from mechanical divine, a mystical rapture and sensual imprisons me to you. Should I change the object of my desires, not content with small everyday joys, make like …
Read More »WHEN THE MUSIC BECOMES POETRY: Franco Battiato, “The Cure”
THE CURE I will protect you from the fears of hypochondria from disturbances that will meet today for your street. Injustices and deceptions of your time, from the failures that your nature will attract. I will relieve you from pain and your mood swings, the obsessions of your delusions. Overcome the gravitational currents, space and light to not grow old. …
Read More »REMEDIOS VARO (1908/1963), MEXICAN PAINTER: Paintings dreamlike personal style, a woman steeped in surrealism
UNDER A SKY HIGH AND WITHOUT CLOUDS: Journey in the Aeolian Islands, Italy
The distance, the distance from everything, this is what you “feel” inside you, coming where – in spring and autumn – they stop herons and red herons, pelicans and flamingos, ducks, cranes and wild geese. Under that sky high and cloudless, seven volcanic islands retain clear waters and prehistoric remains, in a landscape overlooking the sea, covered with Mediterranean vegetation, …
Read More »ARTEMISIA GENTILESCHI (1593/1653), ITALIAN PAINTER: A sensitive woman, with love for the works of Caravaggio
A MAN IN A WOMAN: Renaissance poetry of Michelangelo Buonarroti
A MAN IN A WOMAN A man in a woman, even one god, for his mouth speaks, so I have to listen to this fact, I never will be mine. I should think so, much as I am, I was taken away from her, out of myself, have pity on me; yes above the vain desire spurs me her …
Read More »THAT CONSTRAINT: Renaissance poetry, by Vittoria Colonna
THAT CONSTRAINT That constraint where my happy fate to the will of Heaven tied me, to my great sorrow was dissolved by the cruel death. The suffering was so heavy and hard to bear that suddenly has deleted all my joy and, if it were not for the reason that finally won, I would have made my life short. But …
Read More »ONCE AGAIN: Renaissance poetry, by Isabella Morra
ONCE AGAIN Here again, the valley of hell, alpine river, steep mountains, spirits without any virtue, you will hear my cry and my eternal pain. Each mote I hear, every cave, wherever I stop me, wherever moving steps, because the lot, which is always changing and always increases my eternal evil. And while I lament day and night, wild animals, …
Read More »PINTURICCHIO (1452/1513), ITALIAN PAINTER: Paintings on tablets, frescoes and miniatures, for each demanding customer
NOT EXPRESS THE LOVE: Poetry, by William Blake
NOT EXPRESS LOVE Not express love, the real one is always ascoso; It is a breath that moves silent, mysterious. I said, my great love my heart was opened, with fears horrendous, cold ah, trembling, she fled. As it was far from me a traveler lifted it, silent, mysterious: she sighed and conquered. (William Blake)
Read More »THE GARDEN OF LOVE: Poetry, by William Blake
THE GARDEN OF LOVE In The Garden of Love, one day I went, And I saw a thing never seen before: a chapel erected in the center lawn, where I used to play. It was well bolted gates. “Thou shalt not”, it was written on the threshold; I turned to the Garden of Love me, that many flowers it had …
Read More »ANXIOUSLY STATUES: Poetry, by William Blake
ANXIOUSLY STATUES “Rather choke a child in the cradle, which cradle of unfulfilled desires.” Anxious statues of blood dressed in clothes, and tied for a moment, in the first light of Trafalgar Square, quietly exchanging promises, questions, complaints and cries. Mocking slogans of forbidden love, none of them laments that they would like to be happy, dares to show himself …
Read More »