The turn I was gifted
(Nodari, Bonacina)
According to the flights of my soul
Sensible to the calls of companions
Wider spaces I visited
And my port quite finally I found
At a spring of purer sounds
Many moons looked after the sleeps
Of creatures at night
Whiles my eyes were roaming
And were waiting for you to come
To my enchanted shelter
But none has followed the narrow
And none has accepted the gift of my sounds
Now here I lay
Amid bushes of lilacs in bloom
..now here I lay in bloom.
Will it please to my visions
I was cut as a spring of these flowers
And brought to cover over my grave
Monument of a mercy misused
Among you
Distance an empire that conquers and wastes
A cage of beauty and grace
Rules now the abyss... .
...in between...
I’ve asked:
“Does my singing live
Just when someone is enjoying it?
Or maybe it behaves like the wind
That blows over seas
Although there are no leaves to stir?”
I say: “It lives because someone has lived and sang it
... it lives because someone has lived”
I offer my donations of air caged in tones
To the altar of Nature built upon the memories of a dusk in the past
There I thank for existence
I’d like not to expect any sign from your side of the abyss
I’d love to live on my creed and my poetry
But I’m not strong enough...
And sometimes among the red heather
I feel lost then I wait a call from you
From far to break down this solitude and silence
Am I wrong when I pay no respect to my soul
And those voices, and those sounds
So pure and too high? Or am I just alone?”
Joy
(Costanza, Nodari, Bonacina)
Joy is the colour in may
Nature she knows
When green echoes twittering blue
Of early song birds
Song birds
The early song birds
And turquoise voice of a nurse
Thins the crimson reveries of a baby
And turquoise voice of a nurse
Thins the crimson reveries of a baby
And red and grey is the mutter
Of wives under sheds...
In the evening
Under sheds in the evening
Yellow is the tinkle of meadows skimmed by the sun
A wedding ring to the Earth
But when the spark stolen by the wind of East
From the Sun nest will set on fire
The roof of the hut
Supreme for us will be the torture of Eagle
For all the colours of deceit into white
Will be drowned by the Moon
Too sad is the sight of a withered flower
To be extinguished in a life time
A lark departs from the nest
A brood will starve tonight
Too hard to bear are the wailings of a deer
Swept by the flood
So easy is to chase the golden hare
Sheltering from Moon under dewy woods
Courage is just standing still and stop the run
But Procyon and the hunter
Never quit their foolish pursuit
And yet the nymphs of June
Are offering a new necklace
Made up with colours and deceits
Made up with colours and deceits
My mother land, my mother land, my mother land...
The spell of the rain
(Costanza, Bonacina)
A grace is the rain
For those who can rest
Silent drowning no quest
So come maids of water
And the holiest of you
Wash deep all the images
For I want to recall
That kernel of light
Life dust has obscured
As I was passing by... .by...
Once she came on a tidal wave
Her gift: a breath of a rare life
Violent was the sea and jealous
When far abducted its gorgeous daughter
Call her? ... . Call her?
No, a name ain’t enough for my lady... lady
A choir perhaps could give her smile
But ten thousands voices won’t least to found
An universe of resounding harmonics... harmonics
Sumptuous moment
(Nodari ,Costanza, Bonacina)
“I robbed the woods
The trusting woods
The unsuspecting trees
Brought out their burrs and mosses
My fantasy to please
I scanned their trinkets curious
I grasped I bore away
What will the solemn hemlock
What will the oak tree say?"
"A chill came up as from a shaft
Our moon became a well”
(Emily Dickinson)
Sky’s going to mourning
Ritual pyres are cast for light’s everyday missing
The past lays down the day for coming ages
Moor holds up their fragile limbs
Throwing itself in the mercy of the night
After the daily betrayal for the sun
Witness is the marten
Judge the faithful owl
Haughty winds chase dust through hidden paths
Whiles Night issues decree with bellow
Frost beheads the flowers
In vain sheltering in buds
The colours own their creed of Sun Worshipers
And severe the lightning obeys
Freezing afflicted shapes into time
The image and everlasting jail
Exhausted darkness melts in drops of light
Yet unborn to the sight
Eager is the ground for the blood of the night fight
Carved box
(Nodari, Costanza, Bonacina)
She looked out of the window
Out of the iced garden
She looked down and down she went
For the time of her fall
A farewell to distance
...too late, too far
The stone bench
Where thoughts of delight used to fondle her
The high trees bare of their past colours
No pain with her
When she first rode the air
With Betty and Tess she climbed up the apple tree.....
When she was young
She foresaw all the world in her garden
In the trees in the snow
In the secrets of her carved box
The grumbling of the leaves
Can't heal anymore her spoiled life
The shape of the box appears lost
In the melting snow
Glittering hands
It's the time to unlock
Not to surrender to the fears anymore
Her childhood's hopes
Drowsed for too long
In the heavy silence of the garden
The fancy sun in the morning
Kissing her bed
The never-ending afternoons late in August
When her mother found her
Under shelter from the rain
She recalls the day, when she waited, for so long
In front of the path obscured by the wood
She moves fast through the places of her youth
Reality is bent by the strength of her memories
No place is safe from the past
And what she tried to ignore
Forces the defences of her mind
Faster she moves fast through the places of her youth
Searching for the long lost way out
The wall where she stopped
When the wind blew far her balloon
The wall where she coughed
For the dust risen behind
The wall where she stood
Confused by the screams
From the parted garden so wide and yet unknown
Called world, called world
Where she opens her box
Though many seasons have aged all her senses
Still her mind yearns for far new experiences
And the box is now closing
With her walk through the time
Kept safe inside