Lost Dreams
 
 

Firenze
 

Warm sun on a Novella
Santa Maria lost
among cement and students
in an erratic and  premature
day

"Vissi d'arte, vissi d'amore"
I say now of this day
that blow in the sky
his coloured exhale
of dusk

I came to you, Firenze, for a woman
and her absence denied me the enchantment
of a glance I desired
and that illuminate your facades
of the light of stars you've not.

Dawn of Saudade
 
 

Thought condense in drops
covering my world
of a dew of memories
evaporated at the first sunlights

The Real become consideration
reverberation, reflection
and book in ink of water
which weightens my sandy heart
diluting its blood

Actor of an acted self
I flee from a consonant reality
for the sweet perversion
of a suffered silence

(1 December 1998 - Dip. Chimica - Aula E - 17.30/17.55)
 

Clear Moments
 
 

I left my heart in your eyes
and with it the memory of its warmth

I left your eyes in my heart
to make you see the love of my sorrows
 

Song for a Woman
 
 

Honey, what is your secret,
the soul of which you live,
the air which sustains your flight
and gives you the strenght to sing?

I am consumed and I drag my look on your face
to make it palette of my self-portrait
Yes, palette, canvas, love subject.

But it's your swallow's flight
between trees of thoughts
and houses of fantasies
that fills the chalice of my heart
and gives me the strenght to sing
 

(4/10/'98  10.30-11.00  Home)
 

Sweet Moon
 
 

Wait, sweet Moon.
Listen and remember,
'cause tonight you only seem
awake and aware. In your voyage around the world, you'll reach her, and with your light you'll tell what I'll tell. Caress, kiss, scald her, raise shining barriers to the world and, playing with mirrors, engrave these words on her cushion. Do not wake up the man next to her and in your light shall be my arms, my whisper, my lips. In your light I'll look after her sleep and at the awakening she will have the memory of me, of the words you'll tell Je t'aime
the unknown reason
I don't want to know,
but I want to listen
Listen these words
on which love lays
misterious as your sleep
I'd write them on the world,
if it wouldn't erase them.
I'd put them in music,
if it would want to listen.
But they remains on my lips
like hatchlings in the nest.
And I can only cry,
quenching their thirst
and making them grow

In what I say there is
dream and vision of you
saying same words,
but dream dream remains
never to be told
Then, though, take as a testament
these words,
gems of my treasure and
they will adorn your neck
when he's not there.
Eternal they will remain by you
and from them I'll watch you, dumb

Messenger Moon will tell you
with a look these words..
Je t'aime
of immense love,
love which is a sea
which kicks, twists, moves,
but still, eternal, stays
Je t'aime
without knowing you
as you would be a past life
I see in you
the absent future
I hear in your voice
your skin
And Space smiles

But now Moon stop
and your colleague shall go to pension
Time made slave
and chained
Space dismembered
and pieces of world
will fly
With a jump,
then, I will be there;
confined by moonlight barriers,
I would sing to you my heart
and only the stars
would witness
our love Go on now on your voyage, Moon, go, tell her the told, while I, dreaming to be in you and in your light, will wait you watching the sky, awake.

(19/7/'98 15.00-15.30 home)

Empty Lips
 
 

I take of you what I love most
pronouncing without noise your chant

As always, I take so only part of what I desire
leaving the rest to illusion and enchant
 

18/8/'98 17.30-17.34

A  Black  Hair
 
 

Sometimes honey I watch you
often I observe you
always I desire you
and I'd want to be one of your hair

Dressed in black
dark and mournful
but always near to you

I would lie, wild, on your face
without moving it but
drawing on it
a panoramic path

Even only by lying
on your head
I would adorn it as a jewel
and I would move myself
for every affectation of yours

You would hold me
stretch me like a string
knot me like a shoe-lace
gather me in flaming bundles
you would caress me
dress me for the feast
shape me as a tress
with your hands wash me
and with the balsam soften me.

But remember that you can
let me grow
or cut me down

(4/10/'98  11.00-11.20  Home)

Poetry and Prose
Emotional