“Sensazione”

“Nelle sere d’estate andrò per i sentieri,
pizzicato dal grano, pestando i fili d’erba;
ne sentirò, sognante, il fresco sotto i piedi.
E al vento lascerò bagnare la mia testa.

Non dirò più parole, non farò più pensieri:
ma un amore infinito mi salirà nel petto,
e andrò molto lontano, sarò come uno zingaro,
come con una donna per i campi contento.”

Arthur Rimbaud

Pictures by SPERA GERARDO - POMARICO (ITALY)

Mixed shots

The saddest noise, the sweetest noise

Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)

The saddest noise, the sweetest noise

The saddest noise, the sweetest noise,

  The maddest noise that grows,—

The birds, they make it in the spring,

  At night’s delicious close.

Between the March and April line—

  That magical frontier

Beyond which summer hesitates,

  Almost too heavenly near.

It makes us think of all the dead

  That sauntered with us here,

By separation’s sorcery

  Made cruelly more dear.

It makes us think of what we had,

  And what we now deplore.

We almost wish those siren throats

  Would go and sing no more.

An ear can break a human heart

  As quickly as a spear,

We wish the ear had not a heart

  So dangerously near.

Pictures by SPERA GERARDO - POMARICO (ITALY)

Let Down ...

Let Down ...

At face value, its a complaint of mass transit. But upon a closer inspection it turns out to be a sad critique of modern society.The planes, the trains, and all the other gizmos are simply ways of getting us from here to there, but with out any real destination. It tells of being alienated. Before people had purpose but now a days everyone seems to be running in circles, never achieving a thing.You're born, you're instilled a set of values society deems necessary at the time, you are expected to transmit these values onto the next generation, and then you die. Sure, it speaks of dissappointment, yet, it also speaks of hope. Even if the world seems like a barren and hopeless place, by the end you know that somehow it will all work out. That one day you'll be looking back and laughing at all those tears.

Touched by An Angel...

 

Touched by An Angel

by Maya Angelou

We, unaccustomed to courage

exiles from delight

live coiled in shells of loneliness

until love leaves its high holy temple

and comes into our sight

to liberate us into life.

Love arrives

and in its train come ecstasies

old memories of pleasure

ancient histories of pain.

Yet if we are bold,

love strikes away the chains of fear

from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity

In the flush of love's light

we dare be brave

And suddenly we see

that love costs all we are

and will ever be.

Yet it is only love

which sets us free.

Pictures by SPERA GERARDO - POMARICO (ITALY)