Horacio-oliveira-74 - Naivete

...fino al giorno in cui bruceremo e saremo completamente azzerate...

Max Gazzè - Il poeta minore - Roma, 31 luglio 2021

La matematica dei rami TourCavea Parco della Musica

E invece è me soltanto che ha salvato...

As she walks in the room

Scented and tall

Hesitating once more

And as I take on myself

And the bitterness I felt

I realize that love flows

Wild, white horses

They will take me away

And the tenderness I feel

Will send the dark underneath

Will I follow?

Through the glory of life

I will scatter on the floor

Disappointed and sore

And in my thoughts I have bled

For the riddles I've been fed

Another lie moves over

Wild, white horses

They will take me away

And the tenderness I feel

Will send the dark underneath

Will I follow?

Wild, white horses

They will take me away

And the tenderness I feel

Will send the dark underneath

Will I follow?

I don't want to disappoint you

I'm not here to anoint you

I would lick your feet

But is that the sickest move?

I wear my own crown and sadness and sorrow

And who'd have thought tomorrow could be so strange?

My loss, and here we go again

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AFTERNOON OF A WRITER

Though nothing much had happened, he felt that he had seen and experienced enough that day - thus securing his tomorrow. For today he required no more, no sight or conversation, and above all nothing new. Just to rest, to close his eyes and ears; just to inhale and exhale would be effort enough. He wished it was bedtime. Enough of being in the light and out of doors; he wanted to be in the dark, in the house, in his room. But he had also had enough of being alone; he felt, as time passed, that he was experiencing every variety of madness and that his head was bursting. He recalled how, years ago, when it had been his habit to taken afternoon walks on lonely bypaths, a strange uneasiness had taken possession of him, leading him to believe that he had dissolved in the air and ceased to exist. PETER HANDKE

photo collage A V A