METAMORPHOSIS AND REBIRTH
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY: Rosario Volpi
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Copyright © 2012 by Rosario Volpi
°°°°°
I solved each enigma
I solved each enigma!
The distance that separates the earth
from heaven
is a meter of poetry.
°°°°°
On the cross
I nailed the soul
on the cross of indecision,
I'm frozen
undergo events
waiting for my order,
this well-deserved death
for those who, like me,
has not sought
did not struggle
did not believe ...
I did everything myself,
I was crowned with thorns,
I scourged
and crucified on the cross of my selfishness.
I know that no one will cry at my feet,
no one will pierce with a spear
and no one will give me vinegar to drink.
Neither I hope to save me,
because who could invoke if not myself?
I nailed his hands and feet,
hoping not to be a man,
but now I can only say:
"Father, forgive myself
because I know what I did."
°°°°°
Metamorphosis
At the first sun,
I leave the house
like a lizard from the hibernation.
It's me,
if I see myself in the mirror ...
I will see me as a being shaded green
tinged with gray:
it's due to the cold of the past months;
a forked tongue:
too many blows to the life,
at the end they split into two
as a wooden sword.
And the tail,
the long tail
for too many lies,
because when you listen to too many lies
even fairy tales are reversed
and, in place of the nose
grows the tail.
On the way there is a bench
carved in stone,
with endless tunnels
bushes and grass,
I would like insert my head
as the others do,
but not enter.
However, I eat the sun
I'm king of the lizards,
they are deployed around me,
stopped
and stare at me.
No need for words,
afterall
we contemplate the same God of the sun
and we satisfy the same desire for light and peace.
Before long
the night come, with its slow pace
to wrap the derelict bench
and, while they
remain lizards
I will be back again man.
°°°°°
The weather is changing
It stopped raining just now
and I move the steps slowly
like every natural thing that changes:
slowly.
In this September evening
the weather is changing,
small signs there say it,
the old men sitting behind the windows
already know this,
I know, the feel on the skin,
also you know
because it is already dark at this time of all times,
on the way home,
yesterday looked at the green grass
and a moment ago you stepped on a dry leaf.
We know,
everything will be different soon,
when September ends.
°°°°°
Ode to Pablo Neruda
The poetry
is as blood, flowing in everything ...
and you, Neftali Ricardo Reyes
as a vampire,
wrapped in the mantle by railroad
you went through the streets of Chile
to feed your hunger.
But, it was in the evening,
when you undressed,
that shone in your eyes the flame of the poet
and that blood in your hands caught fire,
burning like fire of passionate love,
as a focus of complaint or revolt,
like fire which raises man's pride wounded
and devours injustice.
In your verses
I make a trip without luggage,
without respite,
run away train as an exile
along tracks endless ...
I sit next to you
and through the window
with your eyes
I scan the life.
°°°°°
On the pentagram of the sea
If you were here beside
to this tangle of light and dark
who is my soul,
you'll listen the symphony of the emotions
that my sighs have engraved for you
on the pentagram of the sea.
°°°°°
I love you
I love you
in the distances,
in the empty spaces and dark
when no one knows you exist
yet we are.
I love you nearby,
in symbiotic fusion of our bodies,
when everyone knows that you exist
yet we delete everything.
I love you
when you're
and there you are,
because between being and non-being
at any point it is certain that I love you.
I love you
when you doubt my love,
because my love
covers all your questions.
I love you
because if I could not love you
I would love you still,
because being there or not being there
my love for you is a certainty.
°°°°°
The crown of coral
It is ginned
the pomegranate of the time.
The time is sunk
in glasses of passion.
I turn my back at sunset,
I look at my shadow expand to nowhere,
my every step
has the weight of a thousand centuries.
are imprisoned
in the hourglass of eternity,
that your hugs of crystal and amber,
have erected around my soul.
My room
is
a boat upturned
on a beach forgotten.
bathed in silence,
shines only
the ethereal crown of coral
the night has woven
to crown your eyes
sovereign of my heart,
tyrants of my sighs.
°°°°°
Positano
Statuary stone
your skin,
and from every inlet
expands your marine aroma.
Penetrating in your bones of cement,
along the tiny spaces,
arched alleys,
my f
eet kissing the stones
of your down
and collect the caresses
of your solar earth.
I'm going at a slow pace,
in contemplation,
as behind a procession of spirits,
widening one by one the rosary
of your fragrances, at each step,
I breathe, what I never breathed:
is the smell of fried
sweet, leather of sandals,
wooden centenary, paint corroded.
And then I come to your noble blood,
to your sea,
there where a boat lonely
with its forms of siren
a flower carved into the chest of a wave
and a dazzling sapphire poignant
arose from the waters
shaking,
in a shiver,
the heart.
°°°°°
Acid vital
We eat
bread of stone,
and of pillows
forged steel
abandon our head,
the water that quenches
is like fetid mud ...
the world,
is a trunk solid.
But we live.
We're alive!
And life
is an acid
that corrodes everything!
°°°°°
Sky over Baghdad
Sky over Baghdad
at sunset,
on your canvas velvet,
I noted my thoughts.
I looked up
and I could see the stars,
in the river of the sky ...
every night,
every night,
surfing
on the boat
of my dreams.
today,
someone ripped your face millennial
because I would have been confused,
someone blindfold your eyes,
so I didn't dream more.
My sky is a cloud of smoke
and my stars, trails of bombs and bullets
Where are you heaven of my days and my nights?
You, too, besieged, wounded, prisoner?
Sky over Baghdad,
before, your freedom was mine,
I offer you all the dreams that were mine,
now, even your darkness are mine.
I lost all my dreams,
but the one I saved, the largest ...
my biggest dream are you:
sky over Baghdad.
°°°°°
Eyes
Uncertainty of a moment
I found
the depth of your eyes.
Your eyes ...
Your eyes ... ...
a storm of peace
in a desert of concern
°°°°°
Soul
When I walked in your eyes
I thought, I'm lost
but then,
turned right
on a path of flowers,
after all,
beyond all:
a spa,
a breath
filled the vacuum,
"Naked"
I entered the waters
and I lost all my form.
I thought
he had reached paradise
but on a sign
was written: Soul
°°°°°
Without exit
Dear Friend
cry the defeat,
curse the abyss
that swallowed thee eyes
and have poisoned breath.
Sometimes they are our victories enhanced
to imprison ourselves,
and, then the fault is ours;
sometimes it's the changing of the seasons
and others' words inordinate
to confuse us,
then the fault is still ours.
Because we are the ones that always
open and close the doors to events.
For this, as I do,
I sit still,
with all the trouble next, and I rest,
because even the trouble they get tired,
however, they will not let us never
always on our way,
always in equilibrium
on our nerves stretched
The misfortunes are as inviting gardens
that have beautiful doors
but within them lie the desert,
a maze without walls or hedges or trees.
In the end, each maze
has an easy entry
and its output tiring
that