Lampi di Luce (Italian Edition)
Naples, Toledo, Istambul, Hartung. To reduce the universe to a congregation of atoms, the line to an assembly of points. To dream an uninterrupted memory in the hearts of peoples and in nature itself. In the Bible or in Tragedy or in the large beds of the tribe. Our civilization of very old men has exacted a dear price for even the smallest disobedience. In the South there was a lack of love, a ray of hope, an escape route from family troubles. Southerners count the days left to flee.
Grow up to run away from home, far from their towns, marry while still children, die in wars because of their rebellion to the power of the fathers. When the prodigal son returns, he advises his brother to leave as he did.
A blind man who sold pigs called his adult sons to him and asked them to stand still in the open doorway while he slapped them one after the other. Boys and their pals disappeared from their houses for two or three months and survived moving at night from one dovecote to the next or living in the depths of caves. They go over balconies, gates and hedges to breathe an air different from the fetid family air. There is no passion or vocation that is not thwarted. The choice of a profession, a friend, a wife.
Al padre spetta la testa e i figli rosicano la coda del castrato. Accade sempre al Pallonetto, ai Sassi, a Gannano. Le cronache sono piene di complotti, diserzioni minutamente elaborate dai giovani per liberarsi dalla tirannia famigliare.jansympzumve.ga
English translation of 'lampo'
E chi non ha incontrato, sulle Serre o sulla Sila o nei deserti, i guaglioni, i pastorelli di nove o dieci anni comandare col fischio o con la mazza il gregge di pecore o di annecchie? Ravvolti nella mantellina, il berretto sdruciato che copre le orecchie, i piedi nudi o stretti nelle bende e un piccolo strumento, una canna bucata, penzoloni sul petto. Ne fa dei discepoli o degli schiavetti lubrichi. Poche lune tra Natale e Pasqua, giusto il tempo per abbracciare una croce o farsi sgozzare. Non siamo fuggiti, fummo cacciati via per amore dalle nostre dolci mura.
Ho avuto maestri teneri, pericolosi.
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Siamo andati avanti a tentoni, animaletti col cuore in gola. La poesia e la vita del Sud sono piene dei ruggiti, dei lamenti, delle grida dei padri. Anche dei rutti e dei peti, come ho detto altrove. The Bible and Tragedy exalt the omnipo- tence of the old over the adult and adolescent. It has always happened at Pallonetto, Sassi, Gannano.
A rare case of rebellion to the father, a trial of the father was held some time back in Matera: Newspapers are full of conspiracies and desertions the young have hatched in detail to free themselves from the tyranny of the family. To the father, a daughter is an unclean mouth to feed, a son an arm for every need.
And who has not run into boy-shepherds up on the mountains, on the Sila plateau, in the deserts, seen nine-or ten-year- olds take charge of a flock of sheep or goats with a whistle and a crook? Wearing a short cloak, a frayed hat covering their ears, feet bare or tightly wrapped in rags, and a small instrument, a cane with holes hanging on their chest. At some point a man comes, from out of town, someone no one knows, and asks to take the children with him. They become apprentices or sex slaves. A few moons between Christmas and Easter, just enough time to embrace a cross or get his throat cut.
We did not run away. We were chased away out of love from the walls we loved too much. When he came back, Father wanted a little affection from us, like an old dog. Brought us sacs full of gold. But we had grown up running in packs, without respect for authority and experience.
We went ahead groping, cubs with our hearts in our mouth. What a price we paid to learn how to live, how to get along with others. The poetry and the life of the South are full of the roars, the laments, the shouts of fathers. Even of their belches and farts, as I have said elsewhere. In our houses is a chair with a hole and a large chamber pot always ready for the patriarchs as well as the children. I suoi inter- essi comprendono ogni genere di scrittura sperimentale e teoria e pratica della traduzione. Ha curato numerosi libri e antologie, tra cui: Ha pubblicato quindici volumi di versi, due raccolte di racconti brevi, e diversi saggi di critica.
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Il viaggio, lo spostamento fisico, ma soprattutto i cambiamenti nel paesaggio, nella flora e nella fauna che caratteriz- zano ciascun angolo della vasta geografia americana, sono elementi importantissimi per la sua poesia. You hated the popular Sioux. The French knew, they called you Beaux Hommes. Low porcelain hills open to frenzy but generally cool Book JIT Voialtri che odiavate i Sioux che invece piacevano a tutti. I francesi lo sapevano, vi chiamavano Beaux Hommes.
Su basse colline di porcellana disposte alla frenesia ma solitamente tranquille Book JIT O O birds before your minds took over. O O eager looks through cold clear water and priceless navy bodies creased and figured from sleeping on the rope. Roy took a ride on a chrome hay wagon. The larger of the two was an aspiring building, vacant and inspiring above the poonta poonta poonta of the gypsum works we saw where we stopped to sell the rubies.
Inside was a tight yellow room with well-worn flimsy white trim and muffled gold curtains shattered about knee-level, a row Book JIT Oh oh uccelli prima che col pensiero prendeste il sopravvento. Oh oh sguardi smaniosi attraverso acque fredde e chiare e impagabili corpi da marina allisciati e sagomati dal dormire sui fili. Roy ha fatto un giro su un carro da fieno cromato. I pour a whiskey and stand in the far one inhaling salt air and half listening to the high thin whine of shellfish feeding close around the reef at sundown. A tuba-faced man gets out of a dark convertible and limps toward the door in a slight hurry, pink dacron shirt steaming under a blue Muslim smoking jacket like an orchid.
Mr Bertoni — Mr Khan.
TV light looks weird through igloo walls and the cord disappearing off across the ice looks even stranger, X bent over the hotplate melting down the rubies, dictating lurid memos for the Hong Kong plan: And meantime off Gibraltar hundreds of swollen cellos just waiting for a man of vision and friends Book JIT Il signor Bertoni — il signor Khan. E intanto al largo di Gibilterra centinaia di violoncelli gonfi in attesa di un uomo geniale e qualche amico Book JIT Then that entirely different time in the North outside a tavern with spaceheaters wired into the dash of the pickup parked next door.
Mango trees unwinding, Z bent over the barbecue melting down the blubber. The lava is hot. Although we share a minimal common ground I absorb his polka tastes in strategy and music while he picks up my preference in views, cheap shrimp and weather, long before and after dinner walks diamond-shaped from cards or baseball, east, and up and over feathered Inca racing dogs to who.
Alberi di mango che si rilassano, Z piegato sul barbecue a sciogliere il grasso. Like frying potatoes near the solstice a big batch, the Main Course, silverdollars with onion flashed to chestnut ; Scotch, no rocks; and travelessness, the art of going nowhere for a month or two. Last May we drove to Arizona, sent a paper plane down Canyon de Chelly and spent days steeping in the Chiricahuas, the border country crawling with humming and other birds. Those cool unsuspected canyons tucked high above the desert, the stillness, their poise will take your breath away.
Translation of "appaiono nudi" in English
Dawn and dusk cool air flows up or down them like a tide; the sycamores sigh. And on through the umber to El Paso and Juarez for blankets — those shrimp and calamari vendors with their tubs of ice deserve a hungry painter — and north Book JIT Nights I whistle him in like a dawg. Le notti lo invito dentro con un fischio come un cane. Detainer Mergatroid, mother of men whose steel skullplates pick up radio stations they hate — Poor America — the first broken eggshells alight in the yard: Povera America — i primi gusci rotti si posano sul giardino: Uccelli mattutini si cantano le loro canzoni come fanno gli uomini partoriti dalla Mergatroid.
Un ragazzo del quartiere appena ammazzato in Corea da una semi-automatica, Stalin con la bava alla bocca chiuso nella sua stanza, noi ci bagniamo Book JIT An ice cold glass of water. My mother a fullblood I tied notes for no one high in the lilacs: Days a Year april Dogs have what kids lost.
Roy has his skull bowl of cottonwood flowers, plush crimson and green the mother tree bobs and sways in the wind like grass in slow water: Giorni in un anno aprile I cani trovano quello che perdono i bambini.
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Osier the fearless puts forth. The apple boughs bow. We went and built a tinga, then a mole, pouring the cinnamon-chiles from high above into hot fat. That was days ago but pockets of the nose still hang Book JIT Siamo andati e abbiamo preparato una tinga9, poi un mole10, versando a pioggia sul grasso caldo peperoncini alla cannella. Now here is a sunrise they will speak of many centuries down the line.
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It bronzes the harebells and basks on a hypersqualid surf-rocked girl in ersatz leopardskin dress asquat on random church steps. It lights on a harebrain in fine black suit, expounding. His mouth is open, his zipper is three-quarters open. He passes like a kidney stone. He knows not the cool of the dirt three or four inches down. High heels struck in syrupy asphalt: Thick July darkening the sky like many many flocks! Brunisce le campanule e si crogiola su una ragazza iper-squallida tipo surf rock11 in un completino di finto leopardo accovacciata sui gradini di una chiesa qualunque.
Bocca aperta, cerniera aperta per tre quarti. Passa come un calcolo renale.