Poesie

La gatta

Voler essere gatta
tutto il giorno punta sul naso da spighe
scintillanti di giallo e verde
nel caldo dell’estate
e sentire la saggezza farsi più grave
giorno dopo giorno
con la criniera al soffice vento.
Assassina della notte
che si taglia con un ago ricurvo di platino,
girovagare con occhi sicuri,
lame di pugnali,
spiragli resina e catrame
spalancati sulle porte dell’indomito silenzio
circondato di stelle.

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'Translations'

Evanescences

The man looked around him.
Everything was back in place
It was scary to know the past of those for walls, but it was a reality from
which running away was impossible. What was the point in getting so much upset, then?
The windows were stained in red while the sun disappeared to appear in the other hemisphere.
The temperature was slowly going down.
She was meant to arrive soon. -Soon- he repeated -soon.-
Sit on the bed, Wayne stared at the shelter. Revenge, that night, would have
flowed down his jugular vein as every single day flowed down the glass. Night
after night. At Macey’s. Where the good old ‘Al didn’t bother him for a double shot. Where the same Al took away from his pocket not only the green notes that  swallowed his wallet, but also the keys of his pick-up. From where he came back
home drunk, besides on foot. Where he wouldn’t come back. She knew where he was. He felt no regret. The thing that tormented him more was the presence of ghosts. His mind was full of spooky ghosts with terrifying faces,broken and bloody nails. -Don’t blame me,guys – He mumbled under his breath. It was their fault if she’d caught them all,one after the other. Those idiots. -Those idiots of your friends- he added. Cal,Alan and Jack. They were all dead. This was justice. Wasn’t it? Was he to be considered innocent? No. No..He stood there that bloody night, when hell’s doors grinded and creaked with the sound of the bottle breaking in million pieces on the asphalt and filling the air with cracklings,until the moment when the doors finally opened,belching forth their tared content on their heads when the innocent Sarah Barton passed on that street, under that street-lamp. And devils were now blowing on her scars,sprinkling salt there where angels cried after looking away. And now she was looking for them,eagerly, her face was distorted as the glass who lied still on the street,dragging herself along to every street,to every dark corner where  cowards like him used to hide,to feel ashamed of themselves and redeem every night as the first one. But when the angel from hell had come to expiate their crimes and wash the corruption away from their rotten and worn out souls,they cried as innocent children and, maybe, thought Wayne, they really repented,for once, they really knelt with pure and shiny tears rolling down their cheeks that, although big, weren’t enough to extinguish those burning flames that were already wrapping themselves up their lives, getting stronger and eager while consuming them.Their remorse dripped warm and slow down their clothes and on the black tiles of the pavement and they still holding their blasphemous prayers in their mouths. If the coffins had been opened,you would have found their corpses no more blackened than before, when their chest still rose and lowered rhythmically; decomposition had already started years before, on the greasy neck of that bottle, thick as their fear that got bigger and bigger as it screamed,stronger and stronger every time, drugged, hysterical. He was waiting for her,sitting over there,the clock ticked, showing no mercy.
He gave another look to the bottled he’d put on the beside table, the bitter
liquid stagnant on the surface. He thought about that paper-mâché angel with her glass eyes which broke up that very same hour ten years before. Maybe he would have seen the cracks, maybe just a deep darkness. His mouth had dried and his throat was on fire with thirst which dug deep scars on it.
At ten o’clock the doors opened smoothly and her figure,slinky and curvilinear, walked into the darkness. The thin and graceful hand pressed the switch. He knew that she wanted to see, to be fed and maybe, just maybe, the thirst of both of them would have been satisfied that night.
He accepted her the way she was.
She seemed to crawl,as a long shadow, under the door, like a pale,shiny ghost who was showed to him alive. Her face was covered by a veil. When she removed it, blood and time seem to levitate on air,suspended,right on them. A chill in the frozen silence. She didn’t talk as she walked,the yearning was still impressed in her soft and shiny eyes, unspoilt from how he remembered them. As he felt the chilling touch of the knife on his warm skin (“I’ll be sweet”), every defense was lost,he remembered a few lines of a poem, simple words came back to him while everything that used to surround his presence was fading away: “The cemetery is an open space among the ruins,covered in winter with violets and daisies. It might make one in love with death,to think that one should be buried in such a sweet place”. With Shelley’s words that lulled is mind softly and calmly,little by little, He disappeared in a sea made of fog and nothing and uncertainties, in an unnatural calm, unknown to him, filled with loneliness and without any regret. And, for a second, just for one second, the fear that held him and filled his soul all throughout his life since he remembered seemed to vanish and he realized that he never wanted so much to keep on living as in that moment, with so much strength.
The dawn was already coming inside from the window.
Everything was in its proper place.. except for the man who lied on the bed,
who was smiling, dressed in a suit, the sun entangled between his iris and eyelashes.

 

Leggere il post in italiano – Read this post in Italian

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Uncategorized

It gets better

 

Un video ed un messaggio che tutti dovrebbero sentire,almeno una volta per ricordare che tutto migliorerà,alla fine. Mai abbandonare la speranza.

Introduzione al video (descrizione):

“I heard about all of the suicides around the country and decided to make my contribution to the “It Gets Better” campaign. Thanks to everyone involved including Pace Students, Cast of Memphis on broadway, Washington Irving HS, Todd Caldwell, Peter Forde, Russel Orlov, Wesley Bishop, Jake Grinsted, Virginia Cavaliere, Simeon Buresch, Braden Summers, J’Beau, Eli Zoller, Laquet Sharnell, Ian Paget, Natalia Johnson, Sam Cahn, Liz Gallagher. Please support this project and join in the efforts to stop teenage bullying!”

Todrickhall

“Ho sentito di tutti i sucidi che avvenivano nel paese ed ho deciso di dare il mio contributo alla campagna “it gets better” (migliorerà). Grazie a tutte le persone coinvolte inclusi gli studenti della Pace,il cast di Memphis di Broadway, Washington Irving HS, Todd Caldwell, Peter Forde, Russel Orlov, Wesley Bishop, Jake Grinsted, Virginia Cavaliere, Simeon Buresch, Braden Summers, J’Beau, Eli Zoller, Laquet Sharnell, Ian Paget, Natalia Johnson, Sam Cahn, Liz Gallagher. Supportate il progetto ed unitevi ai tentativi di fermare il bullismo tra gli adolescenti”

 

Traduzione del testo:
Hey tu,che tieni la testa alta
lo hai picchiato davvero per bene,spero che ti senta bene.
Hey tu che cerchi con tutte le tue forze di non piangere,
so che non ne puoi più,ma tieni la testa alta.
Perchè la gente vede solo quello che vuole (vedere)
la gente ha smesso di credere in ciò in cui dovrebbe.
Non capisce la vita che scegli,
non ha mai fatto un passo nei tuoi panni.
Quindi,cosa devi fare con chi ti odia?
Solo scusare il loro comportamento,
ma non abbandonare la speranza.
Voglio solo che tu sappia che
Forse oggi sembra buio e coperto di nubi,
pieno di dolore, e il domani sembra così lontano
ma migliorerà,migliorerà.
E so che il mondo continua a lanciarti delle sfide,*
ma tu continua a camminare a testa alta su questa strada di mattoni gialli chiamata vita
perchè migliorerà,migliorerà.
Hey tu,che ti chiedi chi sei dicendo
“Qui c’è qualcosa di sbagliato,io non appartengo a questo posto”
Hey tu,non lo sai che sei arrivato così lontano
e quando non c’è alcun posto dove scappare,io ti amerò per sempre.
Ma  la gente vede solo quello che vuole (vedere)
la gente ha smesso di credere in ciò in cui dovrebbe.
Non capisce come ti senti
non ha mai percorso un metro nei tuoi panni.
Quindi,cosa devi fare con chi ti odia?
Solo scusare il loro comportamento.
Non mollare ancora,
non dimenticare mai che
Forse oggi sembra buio e coperto di nubi,
pieno di dolore, e il domani sembra così lontano
ma migliorerà,migliorerà.
E so che il mondo continua a lanciarti delle sfide,*
ma tu continua a camminare a testa alta su questa strada di mattoni gialli chiamata vita
perchè migliorerà,migliorerà.

*(lett. contrasti,liti)

 

Traduzione di:SeleneQueen
Tutti i diritti audio/video a todrickhall

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