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Stagione Oscura
Quanti colori ha il mondo che per me
Non furono che un unico tono basso, omogeneo,
Un'unica stagione brumosa mai scandita
Dal cader di una foglia, dal suono soave di vite
Che avvolgenti scivolano e guizzano
Stagliate contro il sole.
"How many colours the world has,
Which where just one low, uniform tone
One foggy season which had never been marked
By a falling leaf, by the soft sound of lives
Which spinning round glide and leap
Standing out against the sun." |
Nothingness
It's dark and I retire into myself,
My thought is taken away by the wind.
It's a background music to the rhythm
Of the breaking waves, to breathing.
Why is this world so gloomy,
The dark labyrinth is consuming me,
No madness because I feel,
Nothingness, I feel you inside me. |
Medusa
Avverto la tua presenza
Nel buio denso di terrore,
Sibili piano, strisciante paura,
Sei vicina, adombri la mia mente,
I tuoi occhi. cosa vedo?
In pietra mi tramuto,
Se solo non avessi fissato il mio sguardo
In te misantropia,
Gorgone incateni l'anima.
"I feel your presence
In the dark laden with terror,
You his slowly, slithery fear,
You are near, you overshadow my mind,
Your eyes. What do I see?
I change into stone,
If only I had not fixed my gaze
On you misanthropy,
Gorgon's head,
You have enslaved my soul." |
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Spirits Of The Dead
Like a fast start is the sonorous wake,
A voice made of numberless voices.
I'm turning round, looking for you,
But your sound springs from inside.
You reality without essence,
Eternal fire and icy pallor.
Tell me where you are from,
Thou obscure inhabitants of dark.
Are you meloudious and bewitching
Or terrifying and deceptive?
¡¡
Spirit Dance
And I'm breathing the air of lost land,
I travel in the true dimension.
Tedium is interrupted, I penetrate into
The light of revelation,
I meet the man and his spirit,
His art, his grace, true spiritual love,
The kindness of whom caresses a flower
With renewed enthusiasm. |
Proserpina
[Words by Dante Gabriele Rossetti 1828-1882]
Lungi ?la luce che in s?questo muro
Rifrange appena, un breve istante scorta
Del rio palazzo alla soprana porta.
Lungi quei fiori d'Enna, O lido oscuro,
Dal frutto tuo fatal che ormai m'?duro.
Lungi quel ciel dal tartareo manto
Che qu?mi cuopre: e lungi ahi lungi ahi quanto
Le notti che saràn dai d?che furo.
Lungi da me mi sento; e ognor sognando,
Cerco e ricerco, e resto ascoltatrice;
E qualche cuore a qualche anima dice,
(Di cui mi giunge il suono da quando in quando,
Continuamente insieme sospirando,)-
"Oim?per te, Proserpina infelice!"
"Afar away the light that brings cold cheer
Unto this wall, one instant and no more
Admitted at my distant palace-door.
Afar the flowers of Enna from this drear
Dire fruit, which, tasted once, must thrall me here.
Afar those skies from this Tartarean grey
That chills me: and afar, how far away,
The nights that shall be from the days that were.
Afar from mine own self I seem, and wing
Strange ways in thought, and listen for a sign;
And still some heart unto some soul doth pine,
(Whose sounds mine inner sense is faith to bring,
Continually together murmuring,)-
"Woe's me for thee, unhappy Proserpine!" |
The Land Under The Waves
Emptiness prevails
Over my mind...
I would deny myself, not think anything,
Cast myself in the void,
The wave, slipping fast into it,
Slipping and then maybe living again
In a meadow where there are
Serene people around...
They love me and dance
Finally, there is a light.
¡¡
Penelope
Fluid is the night which I plunge in,
Coloured by the sunset, enlightened by the moon.
I weave weft of dreams
Erasing them with reality,
I wait for Death
That will come from the sea.
I grow flowers watering them
With blood and I destroy them
With the look of someone who has seen
And knows too much,
They read a world in me,
In me they perceive the dream,
Roads of sea, houses of clouds,
I weave, and my thread is Death. |