Mi sento unicamente una "Cittadina del Mondo"
figlia, madre, amica, compagna, donna...
Ho viaggiato lungo rotte conosciute ed altre ignote, per lavoro ma anche per curiosità o solo per il desiderio di scoprire nuovi luoghi!
L'esperienza a contatto con altri popoli, religioni e culture, mi ha insegnato a venerare Madre Natura ed ogni forma di vita che ci conduce a valutare precetti inconfutabili, ma che purtroppo troppi ignorano nel più assoluto egoismo.
Vi apro le porte del mio mondo virtuale... seguitemi lungo l'itinerante scorrer d'acqua lasciando traccia di vissuto.
What to say about Claudine? She is passionate about living a present, balanced and authentic life, with a healthy dose of humor! She loves to travel the world, explore new places, people and food, but equally loves to retreat into silent solitude. She is a writer who follows a hidden path, into an unfamiliar world. If you just surrender and go with her on her eerie journey, you will find that you have surrendered to enchantment, as if in a voluptuous and fantastic dream. She makes you believe everything she sees in her fantasy and dreams. But as well you take a journey to the frozen mountain peaks of the north of Europe, to the crowded sweating streets of Mexico or Africa. Her characters are wonderfully real and wholly believable perfectly situated in her richly textured prose. She’s a lovely person and she writes with exquisite powers of description! She’s simply great! R. McKelley
***
Chi è Claudine? Lei è appassionata nel vivere al presente una vita equilibrata e autentica, con una sana dose di humour! Ama viaggiare per il mondo, esplorare nuovi luoghi, persone e cibo, ma ugualmente ama ritirarsi in solitudine, nel silenzio. E' una scrittrice che segue un sentiero nascosto, verso un mondo sconosciuto. Se solo vi arrendete e andate con lei in questa spettacolare avventura, realizzerete che vi siete confidati all’incantevole, come in un sogno fantastico ed avvolgente. Vi farà credere ad ogni cosa che lei vede nei suoi stessi sogni e fantasie. Ma inizierete anche un viaggio verso le cime ghiacciate del nord Europa, verso le strade affollate del Messico o Africa. I protagonisti sono magnificamente reali e totalmente credibili stupendamente inseriti nella ricca trama di prosa. E’ una “grande” persona e scrive con uno squisito potere descrittivo. E’ semplicemente magnifica.
Unless otherwise indicated, the images and multimedia products published are taken directly from the Web and are copyright of the individual authors.Their publication does not intend to violate any copyright;in the event that a violation has occurred, please report it to me and I will arrange for its immediate removal.
In the specific Poesie * Multilingual Poetry section, there are the direct links to Swans.com where you will find the multilingual poems written with Guido Monte and commented by Francesca Saieva, two dear friends from whom I learned to give a new guise to poetic emotions. Sadly, Guido Monte died on December 5, 2017, he leaves to me a very special memory that will remain indelible in my heart. Here, I like to finally insert the whole textes but please note that these are more than ever linked by copyright, for any permissions please apply the requirements of the Swans.com site operator.
by G. Monte, C. Giovannoni& Masarwas (Swans – October 18, 2010)
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thora dhe kwa che che spirit, awake to
entre tú y yo under the same sky… miroir les yeux où j’ai lu douleur et désespoir, come especho los ojos de los infants je pleure en réalisant mes limites
“africa souls from sea and earth africa spirit africa destruction murder africa soleil africa soleil de ténèbres africa lost forgotten people africa échos de tout”
appears the voice of night, cries of the awakening earth, détras del sonido llega la aurora soften the glimmering sky, now silenced, i lean and listen
by G. Monte, C.Giovannoni & C. Orff (Swans – August 23, 2010)
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… and the existential needs: mundus ac inferi transeunt world and hades pass over because all is in everything…
Nihil restat nisi nunc, solo l’adesso ci resta, the clock of time stops im Strom, on the stream Portas cerradas detrás de las ilusiones, aveugles les yeux von wem nicht sehen will! mais rien ne s’oppose à ton deuil y lo que perdió, carnal life, se encuentrará de nuevo will be again… nel mentresolo l’adesso ci resta, in the meanwhile only the present for us. Keep close this door! And Time will be prisoner… alas just for another existence. Wenn keiner will gegen Zeit kriegen, le Temps, entlicht will nicht mehr bestehen. Without end or beginning, both are One only.
by D. Walcott, G. Monte & C. Giovannoni(Swans – August 15, 2011)
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“then all the nations of birds lifted together the huge net of the shadows of this earth in multitudinous dialects…”the brother derek says, unity of cada cosas, of all the tongues unity: a way of compassion, tambien mi vista se vuelve sincera, canción del océano! Language of water without boundaries bercés dans son flux, flowing without time. E noi siamo ogni cosa e nessuna, being Everything and Nothing… as one Come isole isolate — secluded islands Islas olvidadas… drifted away long ago. E sarà acqua che dal cielo si riversa, water nourishes life of Earth and Oceans avec sa force qui tout submerge, abrumando el sentido de los dèmas.
by G. Monte, C. Giovannoni & P. Handke (Swans – August 25, 2011)
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¿Quién tiene el derecho de juzgar? Who has the right to judge? Para el color de la piel, para el sonido de palabras — lenguas extrañas, extrañandose da la apariencia humana…
Writer who writes words ink over pages of humanity searching for freedom disperazione de la guerre diserzione à la recherche de soi-même Qui a donc le droit de juger… si la désagrégation porte à la désertion, à la destruction… absurdité de l’Homme!
Detrás, aún más detrás todas las palabras pensadas, escritas, habladas…
peter says: Warum bin ich ich und warum nicht du? Warum bin ich hier und warum nicht dort?
deux corps imparfaits, unis — cette image a été gravée sur les pierres par un peuple presque disparu; dans tous les facettes de l’image on voit l’empreinte de quelqu’un que tu n’as pas reconnu dans son voyage secret: un écrivain de quatre sous, un schizophrène paranoïaque et un ausländer turc que seulement l’esprit pénètre, dans les corps tuméfiés de quelques cliniques psychiatriques, jours après jours parmi les tas d’ordures et les fausses fêtes. dans le ciel les bombardiers s’avancent dénués de sens; il lutte en secret sans se reconnaître, sans ressentir sa vie mystérieuse.
Behind, utterly behind, this is the real sense of our presence… here.
I wish I wasn’t me while the wheel of time turns… warum hast Du deine Rücken gezeigt ohne Gefühle… showing your back and keeping moving on? Ages come and go, wir leben und sterben, vivons et mourons… Without pondering the boundaries of flesh mais pas au-dehors… nicht draussen… Inside you have to search deep
l’absence de choses et d’idées pour se regarder en soi même: dream of a crowd, of nothing, of vanity rapetisse en devenant lui-même néant.
Nothingness… and without meaning
How can you doubt above an unwritten destiny… which take shape again and again toujours nouveau, immer anders, over and over. Un coffre-fort sans clés, where we are all kept prisoners.
noire de fumée dans une terre mouillée : des visages effrayés et des verres brisés.
Smoke on the waters of a wet earth… weil fliegen ohne Flügel a flight without wings,
“kat’asphodelion leimona” said homer, on a grey prairie of asphodels no light, only black and waste darkness
am ende we’re thoughtful stardust
sígoura
apó ta váthi
Sluggish gaze upon Hades’ flowery meadow: But how is the color para aquellos no familiarizados con su forma for anyone unsure about its shape? Blind, ciego and unaware… only human con pensamientos críticos y autodestructivos de vez en cuando, de temps en temps self-defeating thoughts. Ciechi e privi di forma sablier aveugle bougie sans lumière en la oscuridad de las sombras only tonalidades de gris.
Homer’s Odyssey quizás se desmenuza, crumbles into empity but en réalité nous sommes que poussière d’étoiles…
Sipping from the blossom of Time: soledad sin imagen, sed sin labios. Schau mal deine Hande para acabar con todo: hands without Macht, sans pouvoir
who with us the dawn, ezra, ngirrwat, ngirrwat dreaming “perchance to dream” said hamlet, i vanished avec le soleil blind i’m ningún, y todos, vanitas, and all is vanity black visible shantih en bro a constructed bridge in the palm of my hand am ende, when you’ll say: come and “così è, se vi pare” dear luigi pirandello, and it’s so if you think so
Worte im Wind, mots dans l’orage: tierra de piedra ardiente. Como camina el tiempo entre la muerte und über mir bebt Lippen ohne Farbe. Finally, here she waits… monotone et solitaire, into the depth solitudine senza volto, soif sans lèvres.
je me trouve encore at home, mais maintenant mon esprit poursuit des étoiles lointaines.
Vele bianche, white sails entre sombras de cielo y mar, unfold the sails white presences of reality… Bring me to the Horizon Déjenme borrar las ilusiones: busquedas perdidas, suave caricia de su isla lejana,
le rêve d’une maison au bord de la mer en été,
where the eye follows those sparkles of white,
dreaming the verses of brother derek dans ma vie, perfect verses like
“island water”
Or is my dreaming hecho come el agua de su mar y los oscuros deseos? Pasos sagrados dejan huellas de agua over beaches,
and i see his verses where derek sees the sail that,
La forteresse est l’âme qui aperçoit le continent de sable, a fortaleza é a alma que mira ao continente de area. Derrière le rocher que je suis en train de regarder par la fenêtre (évident par le mot magique) je sens le coucher du soleil, et je remets le départ à cause d’une lueur de neige sur les cailloux blancs. Forêts, tours blanches, volcans fumants, genèse primordiale, évocation de l’âme archétype.
Em la alma, assim… forte crença… alà, dónde están todas los espectros antiguos. Y yo, aquí encarcelado, I keep my eyes upon the changing colours. Soleil couchant, remuant les ombres, feeble glaze of amaranths and peaches. São as cores da paixão, mas talvez, a ameaça da Terra ruím. There is need of a heavy desert’s storm in which sand may flow as water, falaises où la mer des émotions trouve ses confins. Just there, where dreams start y donde la magía de la Vida termina, and where the magic of Life ends.
le monde présent, un seul temps ordinaire: deuil faim soif pleurs
lacrimae rerum agony of everything
that never ends, não se esqueça sua pequenez e fraqueza largo los rios lágrimas de vidas tears of lives concepts of majestic glory into the waters— silence et suplice reflettent l’avidité e fosco rimane lo sguardo and obscurely we glance up ecce homo, sunt
i’m a tunisian woman, a migrant this is my only travel to the sicily, along a sea that i call mediterranean channel.
“tís d’oiden ei tò zen men ésti catthanein… who understands if life is death or death is life?”
true words on this death-boat this night,
comme les navigateurs de l’antiquité,
and i feel lonely here, in front of black waves they leave me to my fate. unha boca sen respiro, ollos sen visións inside the darkness, but esperando una oportunidad.
Si je ferme les yeux, enfin je peux voir la réalité qui m’est occultée… seulement les yeux du cœur peuvent distinguer la multitude de ces subtils enchantements qui passent près de nous comme des gouttes d’eau.
Je peux seulement sourir, avec doucer et dignité, à la mort qui s’approche. dans ma vie, c’est ça le seul sens, le plus grand qui reste, maintenant que, tout sens s’évanouit à jamais dans le brouillard.
“who understands if life is death or death is life?”
Rescatandos los deseos dreams et rêves mémoires d’autres vies. Sencillo humano y divino Entres corazones et chansons subtiles. Forgotten archetype views Takes shape, into our minds… Cuando mano los pónen De forma forma explícita But then a sorrow; where personas analfabetas les pensées restent piégées tra rami e ricami
books: only return of fragments, of emotion on words’ communion along gesti e sguardi quotidiani common gestures and gazes also if in far places and far times
And there was the human above absurdity Along ages and behind understanding…
And Dante: “Halfway along our life’s path, nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita” Guided across the Acheron by Charon through the limbo of the Unknown… Where was the Polar Star, showing the right path to follow? Comme les navigateurs de l’Antiquité dans la nuit, deep into the night Navigators of the Past reaching for the present of memories gone… Where? This far is your Home où défile l’oubli de la Terre promise? How can you find answers if nobody can ever ask the right questions…
If I close my eyes I see je regarde avec les mains qui touchent le désespoir agony over the sea where death embraces life.
can you tell me where my country lies?
well,
every land can be the centre of the world,
black elk said, black elk,
scrittore analfabeta
deep
illiterate writer
far, but
far from where? lontano da dove
(archetypal words-roots from our brother claudio) and leaves and seashells from death-boats.
by G. Monte & C. Giovannoni(Swans – June 28, 2010)
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De las profundidades rien de nouveau, mesmo respiro of forgotten ways
¿Que mas profundo? The force of Spirits? When they achieve… immortality? Aber es gibt keine Verbindlichkeit, wirklich… Zeit ist vergangen… et toi, toujours sans espoir buscas a las sombras de tú respiro.
Beyond time and believing Derrière la passion des hommes et des femmes Atman Ego [sum]
Busqueda sin tiempo y lugares Achieving nothing but emptiness Into the core of our souls Adentro el corason espiritual Ta Tvam asi. That One you are Who search for the true himself? Duality reach meaninglessness Who am I? Ta Tvam asi… Atman Or maybe is there disbelieve Into believing…
“Warum bin ich und warum nicht du?”
¿Que yo no soy yo y tú no eres tú? Un sol respiro The flow of pure Energy Union dans les affections
tamah tamah, darkness too many men inside only to forget life and tvam, yourself
but seeing the atamanam, the unity of the whole you cannot hate, no more
i’m always in prison, ein nichts, but my mind is now at far away stars, a uma pessoa na beira do mar, but suddenly the river of the time, mto ya muda, o rio do tempo, hits me, and i realize that i won’t be able to arrive alive to the big chance of my life. many years will go by, just a few through the mountains, but too many through a man’s life. but how to resist to the thought that the clue moment still has to come? mas como se faz para resistir ao pensamento que o momento decisivo ainda esteja por acontecer?
now i’m sitting alone on a chair, nighttime. ni usiku… but all of a sudden, no quarto coberto de escuridão, i go close to the window, to look at the stars again, and i smile, i do smile, tenderly to the death that one day will come, that’s my last possible way of life, now that all has disappeared as fog sasa kila kitu kimetokomea kama ukungu agora que tudo esvaece como névoa.
Prisonnière dans mes pensées, même si mon esprit poursuit les souvenirs qui m’emmènent à toi. Slave of memories, hidden into the cosmic power of remembering. Flows down… aguas corrientes pesadillas estrañas, sin formas, que recogen polvo de estrellas y junto a ellas, con ojos mirantes la oscuridade, lloro lágrimas amargas. J’ai épuisé les demandes restées sans réponses… My trembling voice asking no more questions, y por último, dejar esta vida? Where am I? Si je continue, le long de cette tortueuse chaussée, esto ya estaba escrito, sin dudas, sin preguntas y tampoco respuestas. I’m human, indeed, alone and naked of all my dreams… And when the night’ll cover up my soul, jamais plus prisonnière de la vie, néanmoins embrassée à la mort… La noche ya está delante de las ventanas, sonrisas me llenan de felicidad y ternura, witness are the stars and the blur of thoughts alike fog, no more sand, for me, into the clepsydra of Time… Réveille-toi! Despiertate! Wake up!
wind gemidos of winter of yellow, and red leaves to a dark floor, and stop, nothing to say no palabra no volver nothing in front of perdute nuvole-clouds and vapours, rain, fire, burst chasms, segni another dead leaf another cloud and dead thoughts over my mind of a dying animal of desperate people of starvation of my times’ horror, no word to say in front of them
After dark, when all seems lost, we experiment the continuity of Light! Dualité indissoluble, busqueda de los seres viventes quest of humanity, since we are all striving recherche d’une raison le long chemins dangereux. Dia y noche day and night. Invierno followed by spring, l’esperanza ayuda la sobrevivencia! La condition humaine hooked on this frustrated flesh the only way to achieve freedom. Liberté que n’est pas ici not above this material world shouldn’t be so difficult every time I come across otra persona souhaiter en silence, without words, felicidad That could be the start poiché solo amore love can fight against todas las guerras, chaque conflict…
Claudine Giovannoni Claudine Giovannoni calls herself a “World citizen.” Crossing the boundaries of the Earth, Water, and Air, she lives experiences that touch her soul bringing her to publish her writings. Her novels are in Italian: Il Kumihimo del Sole, 2005 – Nebbie nella Brughiera, 2007 – Il Cristallo della Pace, 2010 (Seneca Edizioni, Torino) – Il Segreto degli Annwyn, 2013 (Edizioni Ulivo Balerna).She is a dreamer and an idealist, and lives in Switzerland where she shares with her family the love for Nature with the greatest respect and veneration.
Ritornare al grembo del tempo, trascorso, nell’infinita attesa di ciò che è perduto…
Quando poi, silenziosamente, le parole scritte suppliscono al frastuono di voci che nulla narrano… Ritrovandoti così, lungo l’inchiostro che si fa strada sull’ocra del mio percorso, foglio di vita…
China ti osservo, raccogliere il mio trascorso!
***
Returning to the womb of time, elapsed, into the infinite awaiting of what has been lost…
When, silently, the written words fill gaps of the noise of voices that narrate anything…
Finding again, along the ink that makes its way over the ocher of my path, sheet of life, bowed I’m watching, collecting my past!
Water flows. With it the time, that only leaves traces on my body, in my spirit. While memories, resurface indelible in the night’s dreams always too long. Do you remember? The long walks along the sea shore where the waves on the beach bring the tiny shells of so strange shapes… We were dreaming for hours, looking at the endless blue and whitish edges of waves that vigorous crashing against the reef. Even now it seems that everything followed a specific plan: you and me in paradise on earth. Our Eden, discovered by chance during a trip on a sailing boat.
You’ve always filled me with sweetness, you molded me with your infinite tenderness… and I was drowning in the green of your cat’s eyes.
– Who are you? – You always wanted to joke, when you seriously questioned me. Your mind always ran too fast, like when you were skipping up to the sails and you cached the waves’ peak. You loved the sea. You compared me to your sea which you discovered inch by inch, while with trembling hands you seek the coves of my body to reach your prohibited beach.
You were like the backwash, in the full moon, when love took on the contours of your great body on which the moon was reflected in silvery flashes. You appeared huge to me, and I was so small and fragile. But you were sweet. Of sea flavors, the taste of salt that stopped at the sides of the mouth, on the moistly and warm lips which were throbbing waiting.
– Where will you go, one day, when you’ll be tired of the sea? – You always wanted to dream. Unaware that I still always love the sea, as I love the sky and the earth and as well as I can’t live without the fire.
The same fire that I feel inside, just to think about those moments, at the green of the meadows reflected in your ogle. We returned several times on that beach, we knew that we needed so little to be able to be together in the sky, on earth and in the sea. You were beautiful, charming … then when I fixed your uniform’s tie you always mocked me: -Look, I control you from here. Today you don’t have many passengers and don’t forget it, I’m always your boss!-
Shared feelings at ten thousand meters, while the speed muffled the distances between continents and new frontiers opened before us. It was love. A feeling of pure madness. Both aware that everything was like a dream. As the New Year in Hong Kong and the honeymoon in Sydney… while the water was running and with it the time.
-Will you love me forever?- You asked in a with emotion choked voice squeezing me against your body. I remember your soft black hair, while my fingers played with the back of your neck meanwhile my lips seeking yours.
-Until death will separate us- I remember having answered…
…oOo…
Scorre l’acqua. Con essa il tempo, che solo lascia tracce sul mio corpo, nel mio spirito. Mentre i ricordi, indelebili riemergono nei sogni della notte sempre troppo lunga. Ricordi? Le lunghe passeggiate lungo il mare dove le onde portano sulla spiaggia le minuscole conchiglie dalle forme così strane… Stavamo per ore a sognare, guardando l’azzurro infinito ed i bordi biancastri d’onde vigorose che s’infrangevano contro la barriera corallina. Anche ora mi sembra che tutto seguiva un disegno preciso: io e te in un paradiso terrestre. Il nostro Eden, scoperto per caso durante una gita in barca a vela.
Mi hai sempre riempita di dolcezze, mi hai plasmata con la tua tenerezza infinita… ed io affogavo nel verde dei tuoi occhi da gatto.
– Chi sei?- avevi sempre voglia di scherzare, quando con serietà me lo chiedevi. La tua mente correva sempre troppo veloce, come quando tiravi al massimo le scotte e prendevi le onde di punta. Ti piaceva il mare. Mi paragonavi al tuo mare che scoprivi centimetro dopo centimetro, mentre con mani tremanti percorrevi le insenature del mio corpo per raggiungere la tua spiaggia proibita.
Eri come la risacca, nel plenilunio, quando l’amore assumeva i contorni del tuo grande corpo sul quale la luna si rifletteva in guizzi argentei. Mi apparivi immenso, ed io così piccola e fragile. Ma eri dolce. Dal sapore di mare, gusto di sale che si fermava ai lati della bocca, sulle labbra umide e calde che ti attendevano palpitando.
– Dove andrai, un giorno, quando ti sarai stancata del mare?- avevi sempre voglia di sognare. Ignaro che io adoro sempre il mare, come adoro il cielo, e la terra, come pure non posso vivere senza il fuoco.
Lo stesso fuoco che provo dentro, al solo pensare a quei momenti, al verde delle praterie riflesse nel tuo sguardo innamorato. Siamo ritornati diverse volte su quella spiaggia, sapevamo che bastava così poco per riuscire a stare insieme in cielo, sulla terra e nel mare. Eri bellissimo, affascinante… quando poi aggiustavo la cravatta dell’uniforme sempre mi prendevi in giro: –Guarda che ti controllo, da qui. Oggi non hai molti passeggeri ed io, non scordarlo, sono sempre il tuo superiore!-
Sentimenti condivisi a diecimila metri, mentre la velocità smorzava le distanze tra i continenti e nuove frontiere si aprivano davanti a noi. Era amore. Un sentimento di pura follia. Entrambi consapevoli che tutto era come in un sogno. Come il capodanno ad Hong Kong e la luna di miele a Sidney… mentre l’acqua scorreva e con essa il tempo.
-Mi amerai per l’eternità?- chiedevi con voce rotta dall’emozione stringendomi forte contro il tuo corpo. Ricordo il morbido dei tuoi capelli corvini, mentre con le dita giocavo con la tua nuca con labbra che cercavano le tue.
-Fino a che la morte non ci separerà- ricordo d’averti risposto…
(Lo riprogongo, questo estratto dal Romanzo Nebbie nella Brughiera Edizioni Seneca – Torino, in risposta alle domande curiose di un paio di miei lettori…)
In questo “Paradiso degli Dei”, nell’aria umida del tardo pomeriggio, ci ritroviamo a passeggiare tra le altissime palme. I ragazzi sono a qualche metro da noi, intenti a controllare ogni angolo della spiaggia sperando di trovare qualche conchiglia abbandonata dai flutti. Il sole accarezza la seta del mio pareo, con l’orlo bagnato fino ai polpacci, mi beo nel lasciare tracce effimere sul bagnasciuga. L’odore di salsedine fa riaffiorare alla memoria antichi ricordi… quasi dimenticati in balia dei sogni realizzati dove barche a vela sono ormeggiate a pontili gettati sopra le maree degli oceani.
I miei piedi sprofondano lentamente nella sabbia resa fragile dalle dita perfide del mare….
English
In this “Paradise of the Gods”, in the humid late afternoon, we walk among the towering palms. The boys are just a few meters from us, inspecting every corner of the beach hoping to find some shells abandoned by the waves. The sun caresses my silk sarong, the brim soaked up to the calves: I’m pleased in leaving ephemeral traces on the shore. The smell of salty air, once more, make resurface old memories … almost forgotten at the mercy of realized dreams, where sailboats are moored on jetties thrown over the ocean’s tides.
My feet slowly sinking, in the sand made fragile by the fingers of the treacherous sea….
I did tremble watching you:
so small
into the amplitude of that place
but great
in the determination of your passion.
I felt my heart racing …
to halt at every swing of breath.
And in the depths of my being,
the pride to have you beside
along the earthy path
gratifications of a fulfilled life!
Creatures of Light
into the darkness of a world
which should be better …
*
Vi ho osservati tremando:
così piccoli
nell’ampiezza di quel luogo
ma grandi
nella determinazione della vostra passione!
Ho sentito il cuore correre…
per arrestarsi ad ogni ripresa di respiro.
Ed in fondo al mio essere,
la fierezza di avervi accanto
nel percorso terreno
di una vita ricolma d’appagamenti!
Creature di Luce
nell’oscurità di un mondo
che dovrebbe esser migliore…
*
Je vous ai regardés en tremblant :
si petits
dans l’amplitude de ce lieu
mais grandes
dans la détermination de votre passion.
J’ai senti mon cœur qui s’emballe …
s’arrêter à chaque phrase.
Et dans le profondeur de mon âme,
je suis fière de vous avoir à mon côté
dans le parcours d’existence
gratifications d’une vie radieuse!
Créatures de la Lumière
dans l’obscurité d’un monde
qui devrait être mieux …
Certi momenti nascono così… come zefiri primaverili in una giornata di sole! Non erano gli aromi che aleggiavano nell’aria, non le grosse raggrinzite olive sull’alberello appena potato mentre i due gattoni grigio ardesia cercavano carezze: tenerezza, erano le note… La musica coi suoi sguardi, le parole cristalline che riempivano l’etere di melodie conosciute, o sconosciute, o anche solo sognate. Così, in quella dimensione mediana, dove linguaggio dell’anima è visione celestiale di quella danza atavica, odo le odi di Euterpe!
Magia.
E se questa è rivelazione d’infante, ecco che il tutto tocca nel più profondo il cuore! Non può mancare, in questo mondo acerbo di dolcezza ma dove putridità è annidata ogni dove, non può non esservi modo per rappacificare la presenza dell’Umano al cospetto di questo pianeta in balìa a guerre e dolore. Ed ecco che la musica, espressione dell’arte dell’anima, fluisce attraverso le crepe del tempo… raggiungendo il cuore dei più severi.
Chissà perché sono sempre convinta che nulla è dato al caso: la casualità non esiste e quindi ogni azione della causa-effetto, forzatamente ha un nesso che non ci è dato di spiegare… e neppure comprendere. Quelle piccole dita, con tocco aggraziato, sfiorano corde che ci riportano le emozioni più belle… e noi dimentichi di ciò che è stato o sarà. Mi illudo, a volte nell’incoscienza visionaria di chi il mondo lo vuole veramente cambiare, che la magia perdura oltre le percezioni sensorie. Poi questa si insinua come un fiume turbolento di vita vissuta tra flutti e cascate, tra gorghi e morbide distese che dalla sorgente scendono fino all’estuario.
Tempo.
Che inesorabile trascina tutto a valle… ma sono ribelli anche talune note, pittoriche definizioni di tutto ciò che vive. Sbizzarriti i compositori, che han portato il loro impeto nelle partiture: e noi, con loro, nell’intimità di quegli attimi, tratteniamo il respiro! Ora le piccole dita affronteranno con ardore peripezie e prove, ci saranno lacrime, e gioie, e grida di giubilo… quando tutto sarà posto al loro cospetto. Un arduo scorrere del ruscello della giovinezza… Ma il mondo è un palcoscenico, orbene, l’ho vissuto nella sua aspra ampiezza e tenera illusione! Non si vincono le guerre, ma piccole battaglie di ogni giorno forgeranno l’ardore di quelle ancor minuscole dita che creeranno nuove magie per il cuore. Ed è con loro, per loro, a loro, che instancabile posso solo affermare: “Nelle vostre mani, tra le vostre esili dita, è il Mondo… per essere cambiato e trasformato in un luogo migliore… dove sempre Euterpe sarà presente, nel cuore di chi la chiama con le Odi alla sua bellezza!”
A Lèon, Anastasia, Sara Luna, Emanuele Giosuè e tutti i piccoli musicisti che ho avuto la gioia di incontrare…
L’arrivo inatteso della neve e temperature siberiane, ci ha piegati, ancora una volta, davanti all’impossibilità dell’uomo di contrastare la Natura. Questa stessa natura che così poco ci chiede, se non il rispetto… ma che così tanto ci dona. Questa volta non possiamo prendere in questione il cambiamento climatico o il surriscaldamento del pianeta… Forse in luoghi dove ciò accade puntualmente ogni anno, non sussistono grossi problemi. Quei popoli si sono adattati, la loro cultura ancestrale li ha forgiati in modo appropriato. Per loro, quindi, ogni azione segue schemi precisi che li ha rafforzati a sopravvivere in condizioni estreme. Popoli nomadi della steppa Siberiana spostano la loro iurta seguiti dalle mandrie di cavalli, pecore, cammelli, capre… o renne! La situazione cambia però, quando la neve ed il gelo arrivano in luoghi dove la gente non ha memorizzato stili di vita consoni. Oppure ancora, quando il freddo coglie di sorpresa chi si trova in un momento di difficoltà, ecco che anche solo qualche pezzo di legno da gettare nella stufa può fare la differenza. Ma mondo è paese, si va proclamando… poi noi, quelli che tanto parliamo, ci ritroviamo nelle nostre calde dimore riscaldate a puntino. Abbiamo l’elettricità per l’uso domestico e i negozi sono stracolmi di ogni bendiddio. Almeno ci sono però persone che malgrado la condizione favoreggiata, ancora si fanno pensieri, perplessità, magari anche scrupoli. E ciò mi capita molto di spesso, forse troppo frequentemente…
È la magia di certi momenti, quella che, quando meno te lo aspetti, riaffiora e graffia la memoria ed il cuore! Ma forse è sagace, l’osservare, in silenzio, mentre la neve cade. Ed ogni fiocco, ogni stella cristallina, ogni brivido tra le fronde… ci riscuote dall’inabissarsi consueto nella normalità del giorno. Vago, errando tra ricordi e sogni, raccogliendo fragili foglie di certezze sbriciolate sotto la spessa coltre di ghiaccio. Poi odo la musica, soave, panacea ad ogni male, m’inebrio di nuove emozioni… e tanti ricordi! Come un respiro, dunque, il concerto per violoncello di Dvořák poi lo sguardo vaga oltre gli abeti giganti, innevati. Il terzo movimento mi trascina nell’impeto, mentre la paura si scioglie lungo i bordi dell’ignoto. Un giorno è trascorso, nell’incertezza di ciò che fino a ieri credevo impossibile! Eppure… da qualche parte, nei reconditi misteri magici, mi aspetti, credendo che tutto sia naturale, legato da un giuramento vincolante!
Poi infine, la tempesta sovrasta, dove l’umano incontra il diabolico, tutto si fonde e l’eco trasporta… Chissà: mi chiedo, se sulle rive dei Baikal, loro stanno ascoltando! Sorrido, infine: consapevole che non potrei vivere senza la magia della sua musica…
…oo*O*oo…
It’s the magic of certain moments, which, when you least expect it, resurfaces and scratch memory and heart! But perhaps it is shrewd, observing, in silence, while the snow falls. And every flake, each crystalline star, every shiver of the leaves … shakes us from sinking into the normality of each day. I’m wandering between memories and dreams, collecting fragile leaves of certainties’ which crumbles under the thick blanket of ice. Then I hear the music, sweet, a panacea for all evil, I get drunk of new emotions … and so many memories! Like a breath, thus, is the Dvorak’s cello concerto… Then the eye sweeps over the giant pine trees, snow-covered. The third movement is pulling me into the heat, while the fear melts along the edges of the unknown. A day has passed, the uncertainty of what until yesterday I thought impossible! And yet … somewhere, hidden in the mysteries of magic, he waits for me, believing that everything is natural, bound by a binding oath!
Then finally, above the storm, where the human meets the evil, everything melts and carries the echo … I wonder: if on the shores of Baikal, they are listening! I smile, then: aware that I could not live without the magic of his music…
Remember, transitioning to a plant-based diet that embraces compassion for the animals, your health and our planet isn’t really difficult. You just have to want to do it! For the sake of us all... :-)claudine
Multilingual Poetry * Poesie multilingue
In the specific Poesie * Multilingual Poetry section, there are the direct links to Swans.com where you will find the multilingual poems written with Guido Monte and commented by Francesca Saieva, two dear friends from whom I learned to give a new guise to poetic emotions. Sadly, Guido Monte died on December 5, 2017, he leaves to me a very special memory that will remain indelible in my heart. Here, I like to finally insert the whole textes but please note that these are more than ever linked by copyright, for any permissions please apply the requirements of the Swans.com site operator.
Thank you for your understanding.
.
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Africa
© 2008 AFRICA by Claudine Giovannoni
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by G. Monte, C. Giovannoni & Masarwas (Swans – October 18, 2010)
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thora dhe kwa che che
spirit, awake to
entre tú y yo
under the same sky…
miroir les yeux
où j’ai lu douleur et désespoir,
come especho los ojos de los infants
je pleure en réalisant mes limites
“africa souls from sea and earth africa spirit
africa destruction murder africa soleil africa
soleil de ténèbres africa lost forgotten people
africa échos de tout”
appears the voice of night,
cries of the awakening earth,
détras del sonido llega la aurora
soften the glimmering sky,
now silenced, i lean and listen
thora dhe kwa che che
spirit, awake to
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
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Ápokatástasis
© 2007 Zanzibar by Emanuele Giosuè Mobiglia
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by G. Monte, C.Giovannoni & C. Orff (Swans – August 23, 2010)
.
… and the existential needs:
mundus ac inferi transeunt
world and hades pass over
because all is in everything…
Nihil restat nisi nunc,
solo l’adesso ci resta,
the clock of time stops
im Strom, on the stream
Portas cerradas
detrás de las ilusiones,
aveugles les yeux
von wem nicht sehen will!
mais rien ne s’oppose à ton deuil
y lo que perdió, carnal life,
se encuentrará de nuevo
will be again…
nel mentre solo l’adesso ci resta,
in the meanwhile only the present for us.
Keep close this door!
And Time will be prisoner…
alas just for another existence.
Wenn keiner will gegen Zeit kriegen,
le Temps,
entlicht will nicht mehr bestehen.
Without end or beginning,
both are One only.
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°
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Carribean Union (Walcott n.1)
.
Dhoruba*Tanpèt (omaggio a Derek Walcott)
by D. Walcott, G. Monte & C. Giovannoni (Swans – August 15, 2011)
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“then all the nations of birds lifted together the huge net of the shadows
of this earth in multitudinous dialects…” the brother derek says,
unity of cada cosas, of all the tongues
unity: a way of compassion,
tambien mi vista se vuelve sincera,
canción del océano!
Language of water without boundaries
bercés dans son flux, flowing without time.
E noi siamo ogni cosa e nessuna,
being Everything and Nothing… as one
Come isole isolate — secluded islands
Islas olvidadas…
drifted away long ago.
E sarà acqua che dal cielo si riversa,
water nourishes life of Earth and Oceans
avec sa force qui tout submerge,
abrumando el sentido de los dèmas.
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
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Confusione-Confusión-Verwirrung
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by G. Monte, C. Giovannoni & P. Handke (Swans – August 25, 2011)
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¿Quién tiene el derecho de juzgar?
Who has the right to judge?
Para el color de la piel,
para el sonido de palabras — lenguas extrañas,
extrañandose da la apariencia humana…
Writer who writes words
ink over pages of humanity searching for freedom
disperazione de la guerre
diserzione à la recherche de soi-même
Qui a donc le droit de juger…
si la désagrégation porte à la désertion,
à la destruction… absurdité de l’Homme!
Detrás, aún más detrás
todas las palabras pensadas,
escritas, habladas…
peter says: Warum bin ich ich und warum nicht du?
Warum bin ich hier und warum nicht dort?
deux corps imparfaits, unis — cette image
a été gravée sur les pierres par un peuple
presque disparu; dans tous les facettes de l’image
on voit l’empreinte de quelqu’un que
tu n’as pas reconnu dans son voyage secret:
un écrivain de quatre sous,
un schizophrène paranoïaque
et un ausländer turc que seulement l’esprit pénètre,
dans les corps tuméfiés de quelques cliniques psychiatriques,
jours après jours parmi les tas d’ordures et les fausses fêtes.
dans le ciel les bombardiers s’avancent dénués de sens;
il lutte en secret sans se reconnaître,
sans ressentir sa vie mystérieuse.
Behind, utterly behind,
this is the real sense of our presence…
here.
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
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Fliegen Ohne Flügel
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by Claudine Giovannoni
& Guido Monte
(Swans – July 4, 2011)
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I wish I wasn’t me
while the wheel of time turns…
warum hast Du deine Rücken gezeigt
ohne Gefühle…
showing your back and keeping moving on?
Ages come and go,
wir leben und sterben, vivons et mourons…
Without pondering the boundaries of flesh
mais pas au-dehors…
nicht draussen…
Inside you have to search deep
l’absence de choses et d’idées
pour se regarder en soi même:
dream of a crowd, of nothing,
of vanity rapetisse en devenant lui-même néant.
Nothingness… and without meaning
How can you doubt above an unwritten destiny…
which take shape again and again
toujours nouveau, immer anders, over and over.
Un coffre-fort sans clés,
where we are all kept prisoners.
noire de fumée dans une terre mouillée :
des visages effrayés et des verres brisés.
Smoke on the waters of a wet earth…
weil fliegen ohne Flügel
a flight without wings,
is not the only path?
emprisonné
ton âme, comme
une larme
dont la destinée inconnue est
cachée
dans une chambre oubliée…
das letzte land.
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
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Hades
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by Guido Monte
& Claudine Giovannoni
(Swans – December 3, 2012)
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“kat’asphodelion leimona”
said homer,
on a grey prairie of asphodels
no light, only black
and waste darkness
am ende
we’re thoughtful stardust
sígoura
apó ta váthi
Sluggish gaze upon Hades’ flowery meadow:
But how is the color
para aquellos no familiarizados con su forma
for anyone unsure about its shape?
Blind, ciego and unaware…
only human
con pensamientos críticos y autodestructivos
de vez en cuando, de temps en temps
self-defeating thoughts.
Ciechi e privi di forma
sablier aveugle
bougie sans lumière
en la oscuridad de las sombras
only tonalidades de gris.
Homer’s Odyssey
quizás
se desmenuza, crumbles into empity
but en réalité
nous sommes que poussière d’étoiles…
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
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Infinite blending dream
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by Guido Monte
& Claudine Giovannoni
(Swans – July 2, 2012)
.
Sipping from the blossom of Time:
soledad sin imagen, sed sin labios.
Schau mal deine Hande
para acabar con todo:
hands without Macht, sans pouvoir
who with us the dawn, ezra, ngirrwat, ngirrwat dreaming
“perchance to dream” said hamlet, i vanished avec le soleil
blind i’m ningún, y todos, vanitas,
and all is vanity black visible shantih
en bro a constructed bridge in the palm of my hand
am ende, when you’ll say: come
and “così è, se vi pare” dear luigi pirandello,
and it’s so if you think so
Worte im Wind, mots dans l’orage:
tierra de piedra ardiente.
Como camina el tiempo entre la muerte
und über mir bebt Lippen ohne Farbe.
Finally, here she waits…
monotone et solitaire,
into the depth
solitudine senza volto,
soif sans lèvres.
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
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Island water (Walcott n.3)
To Derek Walcott
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by C. Giovannoni
& G. Monte
D. Walcott (Swans – September 26, 2011)
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je me trouve encore at home,
mais maintenant mon esprit
poursuit des étoiles lointaines.
Vele bianche, white sails
entre sombras de cielo y mar,
unfold the sails
white presences of reality…
Bring me to the Horizon
Déjenme borrar las ilusiones:
busquedas perdidas,
suave caricia de su isla lejana,
le rêve d’une maison au bord de la mer en été,
where the eye follows those sparkles of white,
dreaming the verses of brother derek dans ma vie,
perfect verses like
“island water”
Or is my dreaming
hecho come el agua de su mar
y los oscuros deseos?
Pasos sagrados dejan huellas de agua
over beaches,
and i see his verses
where derek sees the sail that,
“at the rain’s edge”
at last
“will lose sight of islands…”
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
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L’âme archétype – (lament of a prisoner)
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by C. Giovannoni
& Guido Monte
(Swans – November 15, 2010)
.
La forteresse est l’âme qui aperçoit le continent de sable,
a fortaleza é a alma que mira ao continente de area.
Derrière le rocher que je suis en train de regarder par la fenêtre
(évident par le mot magique) je sens le coucher du soleil,
et je remets le départ à cause d’une lueur de neige sur les cailloux blancs.
Forêts, tours blanches, volcans fumants, genèse primordiale,
évocation de l’âme archétype.
Em la alma, assim… forte crença…
alà, dónde están todas los espectros antiguos.
Y yo, aquí encarcelado,
I keep my eyes upon the changing colours.
Soleil couchant, remuant les ombres,
feeble glaze of amaranths and peaches.
São as cores da paixão,
mas talvez, a ameaça da Terra ruím.
There is need of a heavy desert’s storm
in which sand may flow as water,
falaises où la mer des émotions trouve ses confins.
Just there, where dreams start
y donde la magía de la Vida termina,
and where the magic of Life ends.
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
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Lacrimae Rerum (Tears of Things) – Vergil
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by C. Giovannoni
& Guido Monte
(Swans – August 9, 2010)
.
le monde présent, un seul temps ordinaire:
deuil faim soif pleurs
lacrimae rerum agony of everything
that never ends,
não se esqueça
sua pequenez e fraqueza
largo los rios lágrimas de vidas
tears of lives
concepts of majestic glory into the waters—
silence et suplice reflettent l’avidité
e fosco rimane lo sguardo
and obscurely we glance up ecce homo, sunt
lacrimae rerum
men, here are the
tears of everything
for your usual irate indifference
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
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On a death-boat
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Euripides
by C. Giovannoni
& G. Monte
(Swans – June 6, 2011)
.
i’m a tunisian woman,
a migrant
this is my only travel
to the sicily, along a sea
that i call mediterranean channel.
“tís d’oiden ei tò zen men ésti
catthanein… who understands if
life is death or death is life?”
true words on this death-boat
this night,
comme les navigateurs
de l’antiquité,
and i feel lonely
here, in front of black waves
they leave me to my fate.
unha boca sen respiro,
ollos sen visións inside the darkness,
but esperando una oportunidad.
Si je ferme les yeux, enfin je peux voir
la réalité qui m’est occultée…
seulement les yeux du cœur peuvent distinguer
la multitude de ces subtils enchantements qui
passent près de nous comme des gouttes d’eau.
Je peux seulement sourir, avec doucer et dignité,
à la mort qui s’approche. dans ma vie,
c’est ça le seul sens, le plus grand qui reste,
maintenant que, tout sens s’évanouit à jamais
dans le brouillard.
“who understands if life is death or death is life?”
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
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Pages of books
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by G. Monte & C. Giovannoni (Swans – May 20, 2013)
.
Rescatandos los deseos
dreams et rêves
mémoires d’autres vies.
Sencillo humano y divino
Entres corazones et chansons subtiles.
Forgotten archetype views
Takes shape, into our minds…
Cuando mano los pónen
De forma forma explícita
But then a sorrow;
where personas analfabetas
les pensées restent piégées
tra rami e ricami
books: only return
of fragments, of
emotion on words’ communion along
gesti e sguardi quotidiani
common gestures and gazes
also if in far places
and far times
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
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Promised Land
.
Genesis
Black Elk
C. Magris
by C. Giovannoni (quotes Dante)
& G. Monte
(Swans – May 23, 2011)
.
And there was the human above absurdity
Along ages and behind understanding…
And Dante: “Halfway along our life’s path,
nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita”
Guided across the Acheron by Charon
through the limbo of the Unknown…
Where was the Polar Star,
showing the right path to follow?
Comme les navigateurs de l’Antiquité
dans la nuit, deep into the night
Navigators of the Past reaching
for the present of memories gone…
Where?
This far is your Home
où défile l’oubli de la Terre promise?
How can you find answers
if nobody can ever ask
the right questions…
If I close my eyes I see
je regarde avec les mains
qui touchent le désespoir
agony over the sea
where death embraces life.
can you tell me where
my country lies?
well,
every land can be the centre
of the world,
black elk said,
black elk,
scrittore analfabeta
deep
illiterate writer
far, but
far from where?
lontano da dove
(archetypal words-roots
from our brother claudio)
and leaves and seashells
from death-boats.
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
.
Respiro (breath)
.
by G. Monte & C. Giovannoni (Swans – June 28, 2010)
.
De las profundidades
rien de nouveau,
mesmo respiro
of forgotten ways
¿Que mas profundo?
The force of Spirits?
When they achieve…
immortality?
Aber es gibt keine Verbindlichkeit,
wirklich…
Zeit ist vergangen…
et toi,
toujours sans espoir
buscas a las sombras
de tú respiro.
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
.
Tamah (Darkness)
.
by C. Giovannoni
& G. Monte
P. Handke
(Swans – February 28, 2011)
.
Beyond time and believing
Derrière la passion des hommes et des femmes
Atman
Ego [sum]
Busqueda sin tiempo y lugares
Achieving nothing but emptiness
Into the core of our souls
Adentro el corason espiritual
Ta Tvam asi. That One you are
Who search for the true himself?
Duality reach meaninglessness
Who am I?
Ta Tvam asi…
Atman
Or maybe is there disbelieve
Into believing…
“Warum bin ich und
warum nicht du?”
¿Que yo no soy yo y tú no eres tú?
Un sol respiro
The flow of pure Energy
Union dans les affections
tamah
tamah, darkness
too many men inside
only to forget life and tvam, yourself
but seeing the atamanam, the unity of the whole
you cannot hate, no more
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
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Testigos son las estrellas (lament of a prisoner n.3)
.
by G. Monte
& C. Giovannoni
(Swans – January 17, 2011)
.
i’m always in prison, ein nichts, but my mind is now
at far away stars, a uma pessoa na beira do mar,
but suddenly the river of the time,
mto ya muda, o rio do tempo, hits me,
and i realize that i won’t be able
to arrive alive to the big chance of my life.
many years will go by, just a few through
the mountains, but too many through a man’s life.
but how to resist to the thought
that the clue moment still has to come?
mas como se faz para resistir ao pensamento
que o momento decisivo ainda esteja por acontecer?
now i’m sitting alone on a chair, nighttime. ni usiku…
but all of a sudden, no quarto coberto de escuridão,
i go close to the window,
to look at the stars again, and i smile,
i do smile, tenderly to the death
that one day will come,
that’s my last possible way of life,
now that all has disappeared as fog
sasa kila kitu kimetokomea kama ukungu
agora que tudo esvaece como névoa.
Prisonnière dans mes pensées,
même si mon esprit poursuit les souvenirs
qui m’emmènent à toi.
Slave of memories, hidden
into the cosmic power of remembering.
Flows down… aguas corrientes
pesadillas estrañas, sin formas,
que recogen polvo de estrellas
y junto a ellas, con ojos mirantes la oscuridade,
lloro lágrimas amargas.
J’ai épuisé les demandes restées sans réponses…
My trembling voice asking no more questions,
y por último, dejar esta vida?
Where am I?
Si je continue, le long de cette tortueuse chaussée,
esto ya estaba escrito, sin dudas,
sin preguntas y tampoco respuestas.
I’m human, indeed, alone and naked of all my dreams…
And when the night’ll cover up my soul,
jamais plus prisonnière de la vie,
néanmoins embrassée à la mort…
La noche ya está delante de las ventanas,
sonrisas me llenan de felicidad y ternura,
witness are the stars and the blur of thoughts alike fog,
no more sand, for me, into the clepsydra of Time…
Réveille-toi! Despiertate! Wake up!
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
.
Wind gemidos
.
by G. Monte
& C. Giovannoni
(Swans – March 26, 2012)
.
wind gemidos of winter
of yellow, and red leaves
to a dark floor, and
stop, nothing to say
no palabra
no volver
nothing in front of
perdute nuvole-clouds
and vapours,
rain, fire, burst
chasms, segni
another dead leaf
another cloud
and dead thoughts
over my mind
of a dying animal
of desperate people
of starvation
of my times’ horror,
no word to say
in front of them
After dark, when all seems lost,
we experiment the continuity of Light!
Dualité indissoluble,
busqueda de los seres viventes
quest of humanity,
since we are all striving
recherche d’une raison
le long chemins dangereux.
Dia y noche
day and night.
Invierno followed by spring,
l’esperanza ayuda la sobrevivencia!
La condition humaine
hooked on this frustrated flesh
the only way to achieve freedom.
Liberté que n’est pas ici
not above this material world
shouldn’t be so difficult
every time I come across otra persona
souhaiter en silence, without words,
felicidad
That could be the start
poiché solo amore love
can fight against
todas las guerras,
chaque conflict…
Posted by Giovannoni Claudine on March 3, 2021
https://claudinegiovannoni.com/2021/03/03/multilengual-poetry-poesie-multilingue/