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Discussione: Versi Liberi

  1. #61
    pulvis, cinis, nihil L'avatar di Martox29a
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    Al di là di me stesso, da qualche parte / aspetto il mio arrivo.

  2. #62
    Mirmidone wannabe L'avatar di FALLEN_ANGEL_664
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    A loro sian rivolte parole dolci e salamelecchi,
    a renderli più sordi che il miele negli orecchi.
    Vini pregiati riempiano le lor coppe e di lì le lor bocche a vezzo,
    così che nulla possa da esse uscire senza aver della menzogna l'olezzo.
    Li si faccia ballare, ridere e cantare,
    poichè ai burattini si addice e gli si è solito far fare.
    E se al fin del giorno mi vorranno schernire
    di certo io nulla avrò da ridire.
    Il Bardo dell'Avon aveva ben detto:
    è nel sorriso dell'uomo che giace lo stiletto.
    E calata la notte quelle parole vorrò interpretare
    mentre con la mia lama nuovi sorrisi andrò a tracciare.

    Attendendo nell'ombra,
    FALLEN ANGEL 664
    Ultima modifica di FALLEN_ANGEL_664 : 11-03-2014 alle ore 03.25.21

  3. #63
    pulvis, cinis, nihil L'avatar di Martox29a
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    The Garden of Proserpine


    Here, where the world is quiet;
    Here, where all trouble seems
    Dead winds' and spent waves' riot
    In doubtful dreams of dreams;
    I watch the green field growing
    For reaping folk and sowing,
    For harvest-time and mowing,
    A sleepy world of streams.

    I am tired of tears and laughter,
    And men that laugh and weep;
    Of what may come hereafter
    For men that sow to reap:
    I am weary of days and hours,
    Blown buds of barren flowers,
    Desires and dreams and powers
    And everything but sleep.

    Here life has death for neighbour,
    And far from eye or ear
    Wan waves and wet winds labour,
    Weak ships and spirits steer;
    They drive adrift, and whither
    They wot not who make thither;
    But no such winds blow hither,
    And no such things grow here.

    No growth of moor or coppice,
    No heather-flower or vine,
    But bloomless buds of poppies,
    Green grapes of Proserpine,
    Pale beds of blowing rushes
    Where no leaf blooms or blushes
    Save this whereout she crushes
    For dead men deadly wine.

    Pale, without name or number,
    In fruitless fields of corn,
    They bow themselves and slumber
    All night till light is born;
    And like a soul belated,
    In hell and heaven unmated,
    By cloud and mist abated
    Comes out of darkness morn.

    Though one were strong as seven,
    He too with death shall dwell,
    Nor wake with wings in heaven,
    Nor weep for pains in hell;
    Though one were fair as roses,
    His beauty clouds and closes;
    And well though love reposes,
    In the end it is not well.

    Pale, beyond porch and portal,
    Crowned with calm leaves, she stands
    Who gathers all things mortal
    With cold immortal hands;
    Her languid lips are sweeter
    Than love's who fears to greet her
    To men that mix and meet her
    From many times and lands.

    She waits for each and other,
    She waits for all men born;
    Forgets the earth her mother,
    The life of fruits and corn;
    And spring and seed and swallow
    Take wing for her and follow
    Where summer song rings hollow
    And flowers are put to scorn.

    There go the loves that wither,
    The old loves with wearier wings;
    And all dead years draw thither,
    And all disastrous things;
    Dead dreams of days forsaken,
    Blind buds that snows have shaken,
    Wild leaves that winds have taken,
    Red strays of ruined springs.

    We are not sure of sorrow,
    And joy was never sure;
    To-day will die to-morrow;
    Time stoops to no man's lure;
    And love, grown faint and fretful,
    With lips but half regretful
    Sighs, and with eyes forgetful
    Weeps that no loves endure.

    From too much love of living,
    From hope and fear set free,
    We thank with brief thanksgiving
    Whatever gods may be
    That no life lives for ever;
    That dead men rise up never;
    That even the weariest river
    Winds somewhere safe to sea.

    Then star nor sun shall waken,
    Nor any change of light:
    Nor sound of waters shaken,
    Nor any sound or sight:
    Nor wintry leaves nor vernal,
    Nor days nor things diurnal;
    Only the sleep eternal
    In an eternal night.


    Algernon Swinburne
    Al di là di me stesso, da qualche parte / aspetto il mio arrivo.

  4. #64
    Armadillidium L'avatar di Elrond
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    Ma la moglie di Anselmo sta sognando del mare
    quando ingorga gli anfratti si ritira e risale
    e il lenzuolo si gonfia sul cavo dell'onda
    e la lotta si fa scivolosa e profonda.


    Fabrizio De André, Dolcenera

  5. #65
    #QTE Boxing L'avatar di sharkone
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    Bologna/Catanzaro praticamente nel pianeta Terra!
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    Ci sono due Amicizie come ci sono due Amori,
    L’una assomiglia all’imprudenza:
    E’ un bambino che ride sempre

    L’altra Amicizia più grave, più austera,
    Si dona lentamente, sceglie misteriosa.
    Allontana i fiori temendo di ferirsi.

    Vede con i suoi occhi e procede con i suoi passi.
    Attende e non previene.


    Come se mi avesse letto il pensiero.
    Vivi una emozione infinita gioca al Sega!- © since 1951 - No alla Tessera - No alle Dogane | www.segaworlditalia.com

  6. #66
    pulvis, cinis, nihil L'avatar di Martox29a
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    Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front


    Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
    vacation with pay. Want more
    of everything ready-made. Be afraid
    to know your neighbors and to die.
    And you will have a window in your head.
    Not even your future will be a mystery
    any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
    and shut away in a little drawer.
    When they want you to buy something
    they will call you. When they want you
    to die for profit they will let you know.
    So, friends, every day do something
    that won’t compute. Love the Lord.
    Love the world. Work for nothing.
    Take all that you have and be poor.
    Love someone who does not deserve it.
    Denounce the government and embrace
    the flag. Hope to live in that free
    republic for which it stands.
    Give your approval to all you cannot
    understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
    has not encountered he has not destroyed.
    Ask the questions that have no answers.
    Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias.
    Say that your main crop is the forest
    that you did not plant,
    that you will not live to harvest.
    Say that the leaves are harvested
    when they have rotted into the mold.
    Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
    Put your faith in the two inches of humus
    that will build under the trees
    every thousand years.
    Listen to carrion – put your ear
    close, and hear the faint chattering
    of the songs that are to come.
    Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
    Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
    though you have considered all the facts.
    So long as women do not go cheap
    for power, please women more than men.
    Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
    a woman satisfied to bear a child?
    Will this disturb the sleep
    of a woman near to giving birth?
    Go with your love to the fields.
    Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
    in her lap. Swear allegiance
    to what is nighest your thoughts.
    As soon as the generals and the politicos
    can predict the motions of your mind,
    lose it. Leave it as a sign
    to mark the false trail, the way
    you didn’t go. Be like the fox
    who makes more tracks than necessary,
    some in the wrong direction.
    Practice resurrection.


    Wendell Berry
    Al di là di me stesso, da qualche parte / aspetto il mio arrivo.

  7. #67
    Mirmidone wannabe L'avatar di FALLEN_ANGEL_664
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    Morte
    O morte
    Quanto ti incontrerò
    saprò chiamarti per nome?


    Attendendo nell'ombra,
    FALLEN ANGEL 664
    Ultima modifica di FALLEN_ANGEL_664 : 01-01-2015 alle ore 19.11.30

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