William-Adolphe Bouguereau, A Young Girl Defending Herself Against Eros, 1880 The wind sways exultant, and bears leaves on the trees in the Park, there is grass already around the walls of the Castle, barges of sand thread the Naviglio Grande. Irritating, unhinged, it’s a day that turns to ice like any other, it goes on, …
Salvatore Quasimodo – Poesia d’amore / Love poem Read More »
Benjamin West, Echo and Narcissus, 1805 Dagli stagni salgono nuvole beate; finirà anche il fuoco dell’aria nel fermo cuore. Cara giovinezza; è tardi. Ma posso amare tutto della terra in luce di cieli in tenebra di vento; e, su ogni parvenza, la donna che mi venne non è gran tempo, al cui riso mi specchio, …
Cornelis van Harleem, Fall of the titans, 1588 Down there where the damned died in decadent and crazy hell of the boundless asylum, where numb appendages wrapped themselves in linens as in a Semitic burial cloth, down there where the shadows of death licked your bare feet as they stuck out from beneath the sheets, …
Alda Merini – Laggiù dove morivano i dannati / Down there where the damned died Read More »
Oreste Pizio, Venus and Adonis crowned by Love, 1910 O, for some sunny spell to dissipate the shadows of this hell! Say they are gone,- with the new dawning light steps forth my lady bright! O, let me once more rest my soul upon that dazzling breast! Let once again these aching arms be plac’d, …
John Keats – Oh, se un raggio di sole / O, for some sunny spell Read More »
Joseph Noel Paton, Dionysus and Sea Nymphs, 1853 I inhabited islands green on a motionless sea. Shores of scorched seaweed, marine fossils, where the horses of volcanoes and the moon amorously race. In the hours of landslides leaves, cranes, assault the air: in the light of the flood clouded skies shine, open to stars; doves …
Salvatore Quasimodo – Cavalli di luna e di vulcani/Horses of Volcanoes And The Moon Read More »
Pauwels Franck (Paolo Fiammingo), Assembly of the Gods: The Loves of the Gods, c. 1585 Spring heightens the trees and rivers; I cannot hear the deep voice lost in you, beloved. Without memory of death in the conjoined flesh, the roar of the final day rouses us adolescents. The grown branch my hand flowers in …
Salvatore Quasimodo – Senza memoria di morte/Without memory of death Read More »
Create a website and earn with Altervista - Disclaimer - Report Abuse - Privacy Policy - Customize advertising tracking
