May
20

Wie sehr ich dich mag

Posted by sol in images, my sons are smarter than me, poetry

Ich will mir ein Wort ausdenken,
ein nigel-nagel-neues Wort.
Und es dir schenken.
Ein Wort,
mit dem ich dir sag,
wie sehr ich dich mag

santiago_20090520


4 Comments

Nov
3

Laitakaupungin valot (Lights in the Dusk, Le luci della sera)

Posted by sol in life, poetry

Kaurismaki in Vipiteno. That, I never thought of as possible. Thanks to my friend Christiane who proved me wrong. The city theater offers good movies, not italian crap or hollywood blockbusters, once a week. Today it was a beautiful evening.

I cooked risotto with green pumpkin and bacon, I won playing cards against my loving husband, who cleaned up the whole deal and tucked baby to bed while I was enjoying one of my favoritest things ever: the cinema.

The movie was beautiful, beautiful bold colors, theatrical scenes and noir, all with a hint of melancholy and humor together. And a fantastic soundtrack, with the opening and closing songs both by Carlos Gardel. The first one I have blogged in the past. The other one is here, beautiful beautiful song.

lights-in-the-dusk.jpg

El dia que me quieras.

Carlos Gardel

Acaricia mi ensueño
el suave murmullo de tu suspirar.
Como rie la vida
si tus ojos negros me quieren mirar.
Y si es mio el amparo
de tu risa leve
que es como un cantar,
ella aquieta mi herida,
todo todo se olvida.

El día que me quieras
la rosa que engalana,
se vestirá de fiesta
con su mejor color.
Y al viento las campanas
dirán que ya eres mía,
y locas las fontanas
se contaran su amor.

La noche que me quieras
desde el azul del cielo,
las estrellas celosas
nos mirarán pasar.
Y un rayo misterioso
hara nido en tu pelo,
luciernaga curiosa que veras
que eres mi consuelo.

El día que me quieras
no habra más que armonía.
Será clara la aurora
y alegre el manantial.
Traerá quieta la brisa
rumor de melodía.
Y nos daran las fuentes
su canto de cristal.

El día que me quieras
endulzara sus cuerdas
el pajaro cantor.
Florecerá la vida
no existira el dolor

La noche que me quieras
desde el azul del cielo,
las estrellas celosas
nos mirarán pasar.
Y un rayo misterios
hará nido en tu pelo.
Luciernaga curiosa que veras
que eres mi consuelo.


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Apr
9

Mother

Posted by sol in images, my sons are smarter than me, poetry

Mother, do you think they’ll like this song?
Mother, do you think they’ll try to break my balls?
Ooooowaa Mother, should I build a wall?
Mother, should I run for President?
Mother, should I trust the government?
Mother, will they put me in the firing line?
Ooooowaa Is it just a waste of time?
Hush, my baby. Baby, don’t you cry.
Momma’s gonna make all of your nightmares come true.
Momma’s gonna put all of her fears into you.
Momma’s gonna keep you right here under her wing.
She won’t let you fly, but she might let you sing.
Momma’s gonna keep Baby cozy and warm.
Oooo Babe.
Oooo Babe.
Ooo Babe, of course Momma’s gonna help build a wall.
Mother, do you think she’s good enough,
For me?
Mother, do you think she’s dangerous,
To me?
Mother will she tear your little boy apart?
Ooooowaa Mother, will she break my heart?
Hush, my baby. Baby, don’t you cry.
Momma’s gonna check out all your girlfriends for you.
Momma won’t let anyone dirty get through.
Momma’s gonna wait up until you get in.
Momma will always find out where you’ve been.
Momma’s gonna keep Baby healthy and clean.
Oooo Babe.
Oooo Babe.
Ooo Babe, you’ll always be Baby to me.
Mother, did it need to be so high?

I’ve always loved this song… and always despised such kind of mothers… but now I fear I’ll become one of them! If I do, please shoot me!!

damiano_20070408.jpg

Here my two favorite men on Easter day.


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Feb
7

children

Posted by sol in images, italian, life, my sons are smarter than me, poetry

Damiano2_060207.jpg

 

Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself. They come through you but not from you, And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you. You may give them your love but not your thoughts. For they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies but not their souls, For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams. You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you. For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday. You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

Tus hijos no son tus hijos son hijos e hijas de la vida deseosa de si misma. No vienen de ti, sino a través de ti y aunque estén contigo no te pertenecen. Puedes darles tu amor, pero no tus pensamientos, pues, ellos tienen sus propios pensamientos. Puedes abrigar sus cuerpos, pero no sus almas, porque ellas, viven en la casa del mañana, que no puedes visitar ni siquiera en sueños. Puedes esforzarte en ser como ellos, pero no procures hacerlos semejantes a ti porque la vida no retrocede, ni se detiene en el ayer. Tú eres el arco del cual, tus hijos como flechas vivas son lanzados.

I tuoi figli non sono figli tuoi, sono figli e figlie della vita stessa, Non vengono da te, ma attraverso te e anche se sono con te, non ti appartengono. Puoi dare loro il tuo amore ma non il tuo pensiero, perchè loro hanno il proprio pensiero. Puoi dare dimora al loro corpo, ma non alla loro anima, perchè la loro anima abita nella casa dell’avvenire dove a te non è dato entrare neanche in sogno. Puo cercare di somigliare a loro, ma non volere che essi assomiglino a te, perché la loro vita non ritorna indietro e non si ferma a ieri. Tu sei l’arco che lancia i figli verso il domani come frecce vive.

K.GIBRAN


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Mar
23

E’ urgente.

Posted by sol in poetry

E’ urgente l’amore.
E’ urgente una barca sul mare.

E’ urgente distruggere certe parole,
odio, solitudine e crudelta’,
alcuni lamenti,
molte spade.

E’ urgente inventare allegria,
moltiplicare i baci, i campi,
e’ urgente scoprire rose e fiumi
e mattini chiari.

Cade il silenzio sulle spalle e la luce
impura, fino a far male.
E’ urgente l’amore,
e’ urgente rimanere.

Eugenio de Andrade


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Feb
19

Walk the Line

Posted by sol in poetry, reviews


Yesterday we woke up early, had our usual Saturday brunch. (Egg sunny-side-up with a few drops of tabasco and pepper, chocolate milk, scones (freshly baked) with orange marmelade (warm thanks to the english). I had a job interview at 11, to what is presumably the job of my life, for the time being. Please keep your fingers crossed. Afternoon I went to a backgammon tournament, where I had my ass kicked really bad. But I had the chance to meet some funny guys from Turin, and maybe they’ll help me improve my tactics…
After the bitter defeat, I cought upon Michele at the FNAC, and we went to check the movies shown at the Apollo cinema. We were there just in time to see Walk the Line (shame for the awry translation in Italian) so we went for it. We were happy, because things you don’t plan are always better than those you map out.
Beautiful film, great actors. Joaquin Phoenix was the hideous villain on Gladiator, and Reese Witherspoon (sp) was Legally Blonde (though I had never seen any of her films, scared off by the “blonde factor”). Well, they are both fantastic, and I’m sure that they pay a fair tribute to Johnny Cash and June Carter. I give this film my personal Oscar.

Ring Of Fire
Written by June Carter and Merle Kilgore
Recorded by Johnny Cash on 3/25/63

Love Is A Burning Thing
And It Makes A Fiery Ring
Bound By Wild Desire
I Fell Into A Ring Of Fire
I Fell Into A Burning Ring Of Fire
I Went Down, Down, Down
And The Flames Went Higher

And It Burns, Burns, Burns
The Ring Of Fire
The Ring Of Fire

I Fell Into A Burning Ring Of Fire
I Went Down, Down, Down
And The Flames Went Higher

And It Burns, Burns, Burns
The Ring Of Fire
The Ring Of Fire

The Taste Of Love Is Sweet
When Hearts Like Ours Meet
I Fell For You Like A Child
Oh, But The Fire Went Wild
I Fell Into A Burning Ring Of Fire
I Went Down, Down, Down
And The Flames Went Higher

And It Burns, Burns, Burns
The Ring Of Fire
The Ring Of Fire

I Fell Into A Burning Ring Of Fire
I Went Down, Down, Down
And The Flames Went Higher

And It Burns, Burns, Burns
The Ring Of Fire
The Ring Of Fire

And It Burns, Burns, Burns

The Ring Of Fire

The Ring Of Fire


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Jan
22

Barbarians etc

Posted by sol in cuisine or at least food on the plate, poetry, prattle

A curious person asked me a 63 million dollar question. And now I’m restless. What will I do after this job at Perkin Elmer?
During the trip back home I thought about that question, and I thought about my answer. In 30 minutes I went through the past year, I went through my life choices, like studying economics without any real interest in it, never having the guts to change and to risk and to fail.
Now, even if it’s slightly late, I understood that I’m not following tracks. I’m just living.

Positive thoughts bring positive thoughts.

Work has been boring but every day more bearable… I suppose it was normal to despise it so badly, and it’s normal to get used to it and, even enjoy it… ok, I’m overemphasizing. But what I mean is that I start enjoying the money I’m saving. I made new plans, and plans keep me alive.
Working on something in which I don’t believe is a burden, but working for the wages can save the whole deal, as long as there is a higher goal to reach.

Last weekend was great, I spent it in complete peacefulness and enjoyment, at home, taking care of myself and my adored husband. We went to the open- air market on saturday, bought great tomatoes and smoked buffalo mozzarella, we bought a great t-bone that we ate on sunday evening, and shrimp that we cooked like my grandmother Mina taught me to.

We saw a really funny and sweet movie, Kitano’s Kikujiro. I fell asleep, but I enjoyed the part of it I saw. I was just a bit stoned.
We also tried to wash my car, but too many people had the same idea, and we didn’t want to waste hours on the line of the car-wash.
I ended captive of a perfume clerk in a department store. I wanted a gift for my mother-in-law’s birthday, and I ended up buying a perfume, a shower gel and a night cream. I became aware right away of the fact that she would have succeeded in her attempt to make me spend as much as possible. It’s her job, and she was nice and she had flawless makeup: she deserved to sell. So I didn’t fought against her, I gave up right away, accepting each and every one of her suggestions. My skin does need a total renewal after all, doesn’t it?
I had a long and deep conversation with an old friend of mine whom I haven’t seen in long long time, maybe 10 years. It’s amazing how time flows and suddenly I realize how I’ve grown up.

This weekend, instead, was so longed for. And today, it’s almost over.

(I think that the secret of life is to develop far hindsight in order to be more confident of the future and never leave curiosity behind.)

Waiting for the Barbarians, 1863
Konstantinos Kavafis

What are we waiting for, assembled in the forum?

The barbarians are to arrive today.

Why such inaction in the Senate?
Why do the Senators sit and pass no laws?

Because the barbarians are to arrive today.
What laws can the Senators pass any more?
When the barbarians come they will make the laws.

Why did our emperor wake up so early,
and sits at the greatest gate of the city,
on the throne, solemn, wearing the crown?

Because the barbarians are to arrive today.
And the emperor waits to receive
their chief. Indeed he has prepared
to give him a scroll. Therein he inscribed
many titles and names of honor.

Why have our two consuls and the praetors come out
today in their red, embroidered togas;
why do they wear amethyst-studded bracelets,
and rings with brilliant, glittering emeralds;
why are they carrying costly canes today,
wonderfully carved with silver and gold?

Because the barbarians are to arrive today,
and such things dazzle the barbarians.

Why don’t the worthy orators come as always
to make their speeches, to have their say?

Because the barbarians are to arrive today;
and they get bored with eloquence and orations.

Why all of a sudden this unrest
and confusion. (How solemn the faces have become).
Why are the streets and squares clearing quickly,
and all return to their homes, so deep in thought?

Because night is here but the barbarians have not come.
And some people arrived from the borders,
and said that there are no longer any barbarians.

And now what shall become of us without any barbarians?
Those people were some kind of solution.


No Comments

Feb
16

Bic Runga, Beautiful Collision

Posted by sol in poetry, reviews

Recently came upon this beautiful maori-chinese singer, whose voice is charming and highly enjoyable. Bought the album, “Beautiful Collision”, now looking forward to listening to the previous one, Drive.

The following are the lyrics of the first song of her I heard:

“Honest Goodbyes”

Sink with the tide
Rescue me if you like
I’ll be leaving it all up to you
Think how we tried
It’s o.k. to be lied to
As long as it’s only by you

People say to me it’s best that we’ve parted
‘Cause you know I’m better alone
Don’t explain to me how you’re so broken hearted
I’m too busy mending my own

Ending each night with such honest goodbyes
Such honest goodbyes for the last time
Honest goodbyes only work once or twice
They work once or twice
Then the rest must be lies

Late ever night the colours fade from the sky
And the music is gone from the moon
Standing in line for what used to be mine
What use is the rhyme with no tune

People say to me it’s best that we’ve parted
And nothing is carved out in stone
It’s such a shame how we’re back where we started
It’s late now and time that we go

Ending each night with such honest goodbyes
Such honest goodbyes for the last time
Honest goodbyes only work once or twice
They work once or twice
Then the rest must be lies
The rest must be lies
The rest must be lies
The rest must be lies
The rest must be lies
The rest must be lies
The rest must be lies
The rest must be lies

Outstanding!

No Comments

Feb
1

Aria di te

Posted by sol in italian, poetry

molesta molesta l’idea che si presta
alla voglia di vederti di nuovo
modesto pretesto che non sarà puntuale
mi compro il giornale e mi siedo ad aspettare

e l’aria sorprende
sorprende i miei piani
mandandoli all’aria
all’aria di te che mi sorprende

maldestra maldestra la mia previsione di farti sorpresa d’amore
mi prendi di nuovo come mi trovo preso dall’aria di te
aria che mi consola senza parola che non sia tua

sorpreso sorpreso mi sento preteso
dalla voglia di averti di nuovo
maldetstro progetto d’amore diletto
che non so cucinare
mi lascio mangiare sentendo l’odore

E l’aria conquista
conquista e sbaraglia il mio desiderio
nato e taciuto dall’aria di te che mi passi di sopra
sapendomi tutto nell’aria di te

mi prendi di nuovo
come mi trovo preso dall’aria di te
aria che mi consola senza parola che non sia tua.

L’aria che mi confonde
confonde i miei piani
mandandoli all’aria

molesta molesta l’idea che si presta
alla voglia di vederti di nuovo
modesto pretesto che non sembra serio

Piccola Orchestra Avion Travel (testo Peppe Servillo)


5 Comments

Dec
12

Domenica

Posted by sol in images, italian, poetry

L’autunno negli occhi,
l’estate nel cuore,
la voglia di dare,
l’istinto di avere.

E tu
Tu lo chiami amore
e non sai che cos’è.
E tu
Tu lo chiami amore
e non ti spieghi perché.


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