Jan Provoost, Crucifixion, c. 1500 With the calm courage of a scientist, I watch myself being massacred. I seem to feel hate and yet I write verses full of painstaking love. Osservo me stesso massacrato col sereno coraggio d’uno scienziato. Sembro provare odio, e invece scrivo dei versi pieni di puntuale amore. Go back to …
Pier Paolo Pasolini – Osservo me stesso massacrato / With the calm courage Read More »
Andrea Mantegna, Crucifixion, c. 1456 Christ, in the peace of Thy torment naked dew was Thy blood. Placid poet, wounded brother, thou sawest us when our splendid bodies rested in eternal nests! Then we died. For what purpose would the fists and the black nails have shone, had Thy forgiveness not looked down upon us …
Renato Guttuso, The Funeral of Togliatti (I funerali di Togliatti), 1972 For him who only knows your color, red flag, you must really exist, so that he can exist: he who was covered with scabs is covered with wounds, the laborer becomes a beggar, the Neapolitan a Calabrese, the Calabrese an African, the illiterate a …
Pier Paolo Pasolini – To the Red Flag / Alla Bandiera Rossa Read More »
James Clarke Hook, The brook, 1859 Radiant evening, water rises in the ditch, a woman with child walks in the field. I remember you, Narcissus; you were the color of evening when the bells tolled the knell. (Transl. by Stephen Sartarelli) Sera luminosa, nel fosso cresce l’acqua, una donna incinta cammina per il campo. Io …
Pier Paolo Pasolini – Il fanciullo morto / Dead Boy Read More »
Pietro Longhi, The Tooth Puller (Il cavadenti), c.1750 Not an Arab people, not a Balkan people, not an ancient people but a living nation, a European nation, and what are you? A land of babies, starving, corrupt, politicians working for landowners, reactionary governors, petty lawyers with slicked-back hair and smelly feet, free-market bureaucrats mean as …
Pier Paolo Pasolini – To my country/Alla mia nazione Read More »
Peder Mørk Mønsted,St. Andrea Church in Torbole, 1909 Evening at twilight entwines amidst fountains and my village takes shelter in reticent colors. I recall from a far distance the humming of frogs, the moon, the sad cries of the crickets. Rosario’s singing slowly diminishes across the fields while to the sounds of church bells I …
Pier Paolo Pasolini – Song of Church Bells / Canto delle Campane Read More »
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