Claude Monet, Water lilies, 1905 Wisteria bloomed slowly over us. The last boat crossed the lake at the foot of the mountains. At dusk I gathered purple petals in my apron: when the gate banged the way back plunged into darkness. (Transl. by Lawrence Venuti) La glicine sfiorì lentamente su noi. E l’ultimo battello attraversava …
Erte, Sleeping Beauty, 1983 Black threads of poplars – black threads of clouds on the red sky – and this first grass free from snow so clear that it makes you think of spring and look to see if at a curve the primroses blossom – But ice azures the paths – fog sends ditches …
Bryce Liston, Solstice, 2010 If the words tasted of snow this evening, what songs – and the stars that I’ll never be able to say… Still faces intertwine through branches in my turquoise black: again they dare, dead in the lights of far houses, the un-ruined smile of my years. (Transl. by Peter Robinson) Se …
Claudio Filippini (b. 1953), After the rain It rained all night on summer’s memories. In the dark we left inside a mournful thundering of stones, standing on the banks we lifted torches to explore bridges, their danger. Pale at dawn we saw swallows on the lines soaked, still spying secret farewell nods – & ground-level …
Antonia Pozzi – Morte di una stagione / Death of a season Read More »
Arnold Bocklin, The Surf, 1883 Words – glassthat unfaithfullyreflects my sky –I thought of youafter sunsetin a darkened streetwhen a pane fell to the stonesand its fragments at lengthspread shattered light – (Transl. by N. Benson) Parole – vetriche infedelmenterispecchiate il mio cielo-di voi pensaidopo il tramontoin una oscura stradaquando sui ciottoli unavetrata caddeed i …
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