venerdì 11 settembre 2015

BY THIS RIVER

Risultati immagini per river mysterious

BY THIS RIVER
Brian Eno

Here we are
Stuck by this river
You and I
Underneath the sky that's ever falling down, down, down
Ever falling down

Through the day
As if on an ocean
Waiting here
Always failing to remember why we came, came, came
I wonder why we came

You talk to me
As if from a distance
And I reply
With impressions chosen from another time, time, time
From another time.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=SrZYP8SzlN8

lunedì 7 settembre 2015

domenica 6 settembre 2015

DEREK WALCOTT, Time, that gnaws at bronze lions and dolphins, trad, A.Panciroli


                     Time, that gnaws at bronze lions and dolphins




Time, that gnaws at bronze lions and dolphins.


























Time, that gnaws at bronze lions and dolphins
that shrivels fountains, had,exhausted him;
a cupola in Milan exhaled him like incense,
Abruzzi devoured him, Firenze spat him out,
Rome chewed his arm and flung it over her shoulder
for the rats in the catacombs; Rome took his empty eyes
from the sockets of the Colosseum. Italy ate him.
Its bats at vespers navigated her columns
with an ancient elation, a hand in San Marco’s font
aspersed him with foul canal water, then bells
tossed their heads like bulls, and their joy
rattled the campaniles, as innumerable pigeons
settled on the square of his forehead, his kidneys
were served in a modest hotel in Pescara,
a fish mimicked his skeleton in salty Amalfi
until after a while there was nothing left of him
except this: a name cut on a wall that soon
from the grime of indifference became indecipherable.




Il tempo, che corrode i leoni di  e i delfini di bronzo,
che prosciuga fontane, lo aveva esaurito;
una cupola a Milano lo esalò come incenso,
L'Abruzzo lo divorò, Firenze lo sputò fuori,
Roma gli morse il braccio e lo scagliò a capofitto
fra i ratti nelle catacombe; Roma strappò  i suoi occhi vuoti
dalle orbite del Colosseo. L'Italia se lo mangiò 
I suoi pipistrelli al vespro lo condussero  alle sue colonne
con un antico entusiasmo, una mano nel fonte di San Marco
lo asperse con l'  acqua nauseabonda di un canale , poi  le campane
scrollarono  le teste come tori, la loro gioia
scosse i campanili, mentre gli  innumerevoli piccioni
si posarono sulla piazza di fronte a lui,  i suoi reni
furono serviti in un modesto albergo  di Pescara,
un pesce imito  il suo scheletro nella salata Amalfi
fino a quando dopo un po' di lui non rimase più nulla
tranne questo: un nome scolpito su un muro che presto
la sporcizia dell'indifferenza rese indecifrabile.