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the tide of life here where she sank a tangle of dead memories garden was not, but r eliquary. The flutter you hear is not a flight, but moved the eternal womb; see that turns this lonely patch of earth in a crucible. A rage is this side of the wall. If you proceed t'imbatti perhaps ghost that saves you: here are made up st ories, documents erased PEL game of the future. Search a route in the mesh netwo rk that binds us, jump out, run away! Go, I prayed for you - now I thirst will b e slightly less pungent rust ... The MOV LEMONS Listen, poets graduates walk only among plants seldom used names: boxwood or privet acanthus. As for me, I love the roads that can lead to grassy ditches where half dried puddles grab a few haggard boys anguilla: the lanes al ong the banks, arising between the clumps of reeds and into the orchards, among the lemon trees. Better if the jubilee of the birds off swallowed by: clearer li stening to the whispering of friendly branches in which hardly moves, the senses with this who does not know off the ground and it rains in a gentle b reast restless. Here the passions is miraculously silent war here even to us our share of poor and rich is the smell of lemons. You see, in these silences where things seem about to give way and betray their final secret, sometimes you expe ct to discover a mistake of Nature, the deadlock of the world, the ring that hol ds the wire disbrogliare that finally put us in the middle of a truth. The eyes cast around, the mind seeks grants disunites in scent that expands when the day most languishes. Are the silences in which one sees in every human shadow some d islodged Divinity. But the illusion fails and gives us time to noisy cities wher e the blue appears only in pieces, top, between the roofs. The rain tires the la nd, then; s'affolta tedium on the houses, the light turns miserly - the soul bit ter. When one day by a door malchiuso among the trees of a court there is shown the yellow of the lemon and the ice melts the heart, chest and roar their songs there the golden trumpets of the sun. ENGLISH HORN The Wind That sounds close tonight - reminiscent of a strong clash of blades means of thick trees and sweeping the horizon where the copper strips of light stretch out like kites in the sky thunders (Drifting Clouds, bright rea lms above! D 'high Eldorados malchiuse doors!) and the sea throws at throws, bru ising, changes color launches ground foam intorte a trumpet and the wind that is born and dies within one hour slow darkening you sounded well tonight forgotten instrument, heart. QUASI UNA FANTASIA dawn, the dawn of presenting a silver worn on the walls: a li ght on the closed windows. Back to the advent of the sun and spread rumors, not the usual din port. Why? Thinking of a day of enchantment and roundabouts of hou rs equal to repay me too. Overflow the force that swells me, irresponsible wizar d, big time. Now m'affaccerÃ², lofty, empty streets. I'll have to against a coun try of pristine snow Bland as seen in a tapestry. Bioccoso a late slip from the sky beam. Ripe of invisible light, forests and hills Will the praise degl'ilari returns. Read the signs of happy blacks on white branches like an alphabet. All the past at one point before I will be appeared. Do not disturb any sound, That solitary. Filer air or fall if one pole some cock in March. Falsetto-Esterina twenties threaten you, a gray cloud that gradually closes itse
lf to you. What you mean and not afraid. We shall see you smoked in the wind rip s or thickens, violent. Then the stream of ash come out ancient, more than ever, intent on an adventure far more intent face assembling the archer Diana. Twenty autumns rise, go t'avviluppano springs; here is tolling for you an omen nell'elisie spheres. Let it not a sound of crack ed pitcher struck!, I pray for you is indescribable concert of bells. The dubiou s tomorrow does not frighten you. Glad you stretch out on rock salt and the shin ing sun burn limbs. Remember the lizard stops on the bare rock; threatens you yo uthfulness, that the strap of grass of the Child. Water 'is the force that tries you, water you find and renewals: we think of you as an alga, a pebble as un'eq uorea creature that does not affect the salt back to shore but purer. How right you are! Do not disturb the whims of this smiling. Your gaiety already involves the future and a slump-shouldered demolishes the strongholds of your dark tomorr ow. T'alzi t'avanzi and the slenderÂabove the maelstrom that jars your profile is incised against a backdrop of pearl. Outcomes in the top of the tremulous axi s, then laugh, and how strong a wind t'abbatti the arms of your divine friend wh o seize you. You look at us, the race of those who remain on the ground. Minstrels C. Debussy Chorus, bouncing between the windows of sultry summer. Acre lump notes stifled laughter that does not explode but pierces the empty hours a nd playing three scrap of clothing bacchanal of newspaper clippings, with instru ments ever seen, like strange funnels that swell at times and then hurled. Music without noise that comes from the streets, barely rises and falls, and tur ns shades of scarlet hours hours corn, and moistens the eyes, so that the world is seen as closing his eyes swimming in blond. Take fades falls back, then reapp ears and choked away: it consumes. We do not hear almost breathes. Burn you and between the sheets of summer, you lose your heart! And now try the unknown carel ess notes on your flute. POEMS-FOR Camillo Sbarbaro CAFFE 'A Christmas RAPALLO tepidarium in gleaming, masked by smoke cups, veiled tremor of lights beyond the closed glass, profiles of women in gray, between fla shes of whispering silks and gems ... They are come to this your native beaches, the new mermaid! And here Camillo miss, friend, historian greed and chills. We hear great fanfare in the street. And 'passed out the unspeakable music of trump ets and cymbals witty edge of children: the music has gone innocent. A world gno me went with clatter of mules and carts, a bleating sheep cardboard and a glinti ng saber tinfoil. Went the Generals with cardboard hats and brandishing spears o f nougat; Then soldiers with candles and lamps, and boxes tinnanti ch'Ãnno the sound trit e, tenuous stream that enchants the soul doubting (wonderful to my ears). The ho rdes came with the sound of a herd that zampante thunder frightens recently. She welcomed the pasture that we no longer grows green Epigram Sbarbaro, imaginative child, fold multicolored cards, and makes spacecra ft that relies on mobile mud of a runnel; See it go out. Be prescient to him, yo u good man who steps: stick with your delicate join the flotilla, which is not l ost; Lead them to a little port of stones. SARCOPHAGI Where they go the rich girls who carry the filled jars on their shoul ders and have a firm step so light, and an outlet at the bottom of waiting in va in for the beautiful valley which foreshadows a bower of vines and grapes will h
ang swings. The sun goes up, the colors have not glimpsed the slopes: the mild n ature burnt minute poses the happy creatures, mother stepmother in lightness of form. The world is asleep or world that the glory of unchanging existence, who c an say?, A man who steps, and you from the best of your garden twigs. Then follo w: in this valley is the story of darkness and light. Far from here brings you y our way, there is no asylum for you, you're too dead followed a tour of your sta rs. And so farewell, ricciutelle infants, bring the filled jars on their shoulde rs. Now is your step more cautious: a stone's throw from here you are preparing a ra re scene. The door of a temple is corroded shut forever. A great light has sprea d on the grass ceiling. And here where human plague is not playing, or fictitiou s grief, supervises a skinny dog lying on the ground. Never again will move at t his sultry one guessed that. On the rooftop overlooking a magnificent cloud. The fire crackles in the fireplace and the air grows green rests on a dark world un decided. A tired old man sleeping next to a wing of abandoning sleep. In this li ght abysmal pretending bronze, do not wake sleeping! And you plan Stroller steps , but first add a branch to the flame of the hearth and a pine cone to the baske t couple thrown into song: it falls to the ground commissions preserve it for th e journey end. But where to find the tomb of his faithful and lover, the beggar and the boy, where to find a kindergarten for CODEST who accept the original fla me grilled, oh by the peace sign as a mild amusement the urn it be portrayed! Le t the silent crowd of stone slabs for derelict ch'Ãnno sometimes engraved as th e symbol that most disturbs the tears and laughter also, they gush, twins. She l ooks sad the arts that goes to work and already beats the wrists a blind desire. Among those seeking a frieze primordial know PEL remember being drawn forward t o the rough streets of sweet soul exile: a nothing, a sunflower that opens up an d dance around a rabbit ... OTHER LINES AND WIND FLAGS The gust that lifted the bitter taste of the sea to t he spirals of the valleys, and t'investÃ¬, I ruffled his hair, tangle short agai nst the pale sky, the burst t'incollÃ² that the dress you and to fast- its image ,Âas it back, you away, these stones sticking to the mountain chasm, and how of f the drunken rage now finds the garden that you rocked the soft breath, lying i n the hammock between the trees, it 'certainly your flights' wings. Alas, never twice the time configured in the same way the beads! And escape is none: for, if happens, together with nature, our tale will burn in a flash. Flows that s'addo ppia - and now shows up a group of villages that lie to the look on the side of slopes is a parry of ruffles and palvesi. The world exists ... One surprise stop s the heart that gives nightmares to stray, messengers of evening: and does not believe that men have a party hungry. Aimed twig from the wall ... Aimed twig from the wall even as the index of a sun dial that marks the career of the sun and my short, in the twilight and attach a n additive that absorbs light in the cassock of bright reflections - and the whe el t'attedia shadow on the plan unfolds, thee infinite boredom off the time you lost a likeness as the smoke thickened and bears with its dome never dissolved. But do not overshadow the more your support this morning and a veil in the night you tore a horde invisible hanging from your top and shines the first rays. There, where the plane is discovered in the sea, a crew trealber i load and rests his prey to a spirit board, and slips away. Who's up and looks out perceives that shines the deck and the rudder does not dig into the track. -
Cuttlebone is a frequent question that teams from each side of our mind informat ion, and letters of fire state and shine like a crocus lost in the middle of a d usty field. Ah, the man who goes safely, and the other friend to himself and his shadow does not care that the heat release over a crumbling wall! Do not ask th e formula that worlds can open yourself, so some wrong syllable and dry as a bra nch. CODEST only now we can tell you what we are, what we do not want. Noontime pale and preoccupied with a crumbling wall of orchard, listening among the thorn s and brambles pop blackbirds rustling snakes. Cracks in the soil or the hairy s py rows of red ants that now break and now interwoven with the highest of tiny h eaps. Observed between the leaves flutter away as flakes of sea rise trembling c rackles from the bald peak of cicadas. And going in the dazzling sun felt sad wo nder how life and its struggle in this following a wall that has broken bits of bottle top. Do not take refuge in the shadow of that thicket of greenery as the hawk that juts out into the summer heat lightning. It 's time to leave the cane that seems hardly fell asleep and look at the forms of life that crumbles. We move in a pearly dust that vibra tes, a gleam in his eyes that entangles us and a little brittle. Still, you feel it, in game arid waves lazy in this hour of distress not already throw in a bot tomless abyss of our lives strays. As the cloister of rocks that seem sfilaccica rsi in webs of clouds our minds that burned when a fire burns the illusion full of ashes are lost in the serene certainty: the light. K. I recall your smile, an d it is for me clear water between the Commons for adventure of a stony river be d, small mirror in which her look un'ellera corymbs, and over the quiet embrace of a white sky. CODEST is my recollection, I do not know, or far, if your face i s expressed by naive free soul, or true of you are wandering the world that evil wears and bear their suffering with him as a talisman. But this I can tell you that your thought overwhelms the troubles whimsical portrait in a wave of calm, and your looks gray creeps into my mind pure as the top of a young palm ... My l ife, I ask you not fixed features, faces plausible or possessions. In your lap r estless now have the same taste honey and wormwood. The heart of every bike that takes a rare base is shaken by startling. So he plays sometimes in the silence of the campaign a shot. Bring me the sunflower so that I can plant in my garden burned by the salt, and monsters all day long to the blue sky reflecting the anx iety of his yellow face. Things tend to obscure clarity, you run out of bodies i n a flow of colors into music. Vanish is then the chance of the venture. Bring me the pla nt that leads to where depths rise and steam as the life essence, bring me the s unflower crazed with light. Often the pain of living I've met: it was choked gur gling brook, the wrapping of the leaf was scorched, was the horse. Well I did no t know, outside of the miracle that opens the Divine Indifference: the statue wa s drowsiness in the afternoon, and the cloud, and the hawk lifted high. What I k new was not the whitewash, the habit which is our human adventure.ÂIt was perha ps beyond the blue cloth; quiet forbade the clear sky only a seal. Or was the re al falÃ²tico mutate in my life, the unfolding of a burning sod you will ever see . So this remained true peel my substance that is not dampening the fire for me was called: ignorance. If you discern a shadow, a shadow is not - but that I am. I could be strong, offer it as a gift. Portovenere La fuoresce the Triton from the waves lapping on the threshold of a Christian shrine, and every next hour is ancient. Any uncertainty lends you his hand as a little girl friend. There is n ot who you're watching or listening to him. You stand at the origins and decide it is foolish: share the latest to take a face. I know the time that is crossing his face impas sive as a crude face: is revealed almost invisible punishment. This does not see people in the crowded course. You, my words betrayed the vain secreted bite, th e wind blows in the heart. The real reason is more of who is silent. The sobbing and singing a song of peace. Glory of noon, when he is lying do not make the tr ees, and more and more of it around to show too much light, the appearances, Fal
bo. The sun, high up - and a dry riverbed. My day is not so past the time most b eautiful is beyond the wall that encloses a whitewashed occas. The drought, in t urn, a kingfisher hovers if one relic of life. Good rain across squalor, but joy is more polite to wait. Happiness achieved, you are walking on the edge of the blade. Six eyes gleam that wavers, the foot, tense ice cracks, and therefore doe s not touch you who loves you more. If you get on the souls of sadness invaded a nd cleared, your morning is sweet and disturbers like the nests of cornices. But nothing is charged crying child who flees the ball between the houses. The reed reappears in his cimelli serenity that no spider: the thirsty garden bristling Ramelli protrudes beyond the closed gate, sultry tight. Salt hour waiting in the sky, empty, from sea s'ingrigia. A tree grows on the water clouds, then collaps es as Cinigiano. Absent, as missing in this plague that consumes you and without you this: you're far away and all but wanders from its groove, cliffs, firing i n the mist. Maybe one morning going into an air-glass, dry, addressing, I see the miracle: n othing behind me, the emptiness behind me with a terror drunk. Then as if one sc reen, and pitched in Egypt trees hills homes for the usual trick. But it will be too late, and I shall go silent men who do not turn, with my secret. Valmorbia, talking your bottom clouds of flowering plants in Asolo. Born in us, designed b y blind chance, oblivion of the world. The shots were silent, solitary in the wo mb did not give Leno the sound hoarse. Blossomed a rocket on the stem, hoarse we eping in the air. The nights were all clear dawn and foxes brought to my cave. V almorbia a name - and now the dull memory, a land where there is darkening into night. Try your hand the keyboard, your eyes read the signs on the sheet the imp ossible, and any agreement was crushed as a voice of sympathy. I realized that e verything around, softened in seeing jammed helplessly ignorant of the language than yours, it bruiva over the glass clearly narrowed the Navy. Passed in the bl ue box a fleeting dance of butterflies, a leaf shook in the sun. Nothing was for thcoming his words, and I did, we did, your sweet ignorance. The farandole of ch ildren was life on the shore by strong bursting. Grew from a few reeds and scrub the bush in the pure human. The passerby felt like a torture his detachment fro m ancient roots. In the golden shores florida happy even a name, as were a vice. Sistrum weak wind of a lost cricket, and just touched off in ch'esala torpor. Br anches from deep within us the secret vein: our world is just holding. If you ar e the hints, the air quiver corrupt gray traces the emptiness ringhiotte. The ge sture indicated s'annulla, every voice is silent, descends to its mouth life bar e. Squeaks the pulley shaft, the water rises to the light and there merges. Trem ble in a memory filled bucket, in the pure image circle laughs. Berthing face to evanescent lips: it distorts the past, you old, belongs to another ... Oh that already creaks the wheel, you end restores the atrium, vision, a distance betwee n us. Arremba singed on the shore vessels of cardboard, and sleep, little boy ma ster, not you hear the malevolent spirits who sail in flocks. In closed dell'ort ino svolacchia fumacchi the owl and the roofs are weights. The moment that ruine d the work slow reaches of months now cracks the secret, now in a funny divelge. Is the gap, perhaps without noise. Who built hears his sentence. It's time that you save only the cream boat.ÂAmarr your fleet between the hedges. Hoopoe, hil arious bird slandered by poets, roti your Stollo ridge above the plane of the he nhouse and a fake cock turns to wind spring nuncio, hoopoe, as time stops for yo u, will never die again on February, as extends to all outside his movement of y our head, aligero elf, and you ignore it. Graphite on the wall by the poets, which overshadows the few seats the arch of t he sky appears over. Who remembers most ch'arse impetuous fire in the veins of t he world - in a chilly dull forms are scattered. Tomorrow I shall see the quay a nd the wall and used the road. In the future that opens in the morning as boats are anchored in the harbor.
Mediterranean vortex s'abbatte on my head reclined in a sound agricultural jokes . Hot land crossed by oblique shadows of pines and the sea down there is a veil rather than branches, the eyes, the heat that sometimes erupts from the ground t hat it occurred. When more or less dull in the eddy water, which floods high nex t to long dry reaches me: or a bumblebee and a sometimes ripiovere foam on the r ocks. As the face rising, here cease the braying over my head, and shoot into th e water strepeanti, biancazzurre barbs, two jays. Old, have drunk the voice that escapes from your mouths when they like green bells and throw back and break. T he house of my distant summers was close by, you know, there in the country wher e the sun bakes and clouded the air mosquitoes. Then as now stilled by your pres ence, sea, but I think more worthy of the solemn warning of your breath. You tol d me that the first little excitement in my heart was simply a moment of yours t hat I was at the bottom of your law risky to be vast and varied and fixed set: a nd thus spoiled of all filth as you do that slam on the banks of the starfish cork algae useless rubble of yo ur void. Going down the sometimes arid embankments now divided them swelled Autu mn mood, I had no more heart the wheel of the seasons and the relentless drop of the time, but you fill me with foreboding good soul, caught in ' gasp of air be fore motionless on the rocks bordering the path. Or, m'avvisavo, wanted to tear the stone, leaning on an invisible embrace, felt the hard on the next vortex, an d throbbed, and tufts of greedy said water pipes hidden, shaking, an assent. You also suffer redeemed vastness of the stones: for thy triumph was the immobility of the right end. Lying in the stony, salty gusts reached to the heart was the sea breeze, a gambling ring. With this joy rushes from the closed beach Vallotto the lapwing bewildered. I sometimes stayed in the caves that t'assecondano, wid e or narrow, shady and love. Beware the mighty fund markets spans architecture m arked the sky. Arose from your chest rumbling air temples, steeples bouncy light s: a city of glass inside the blue net gradually we discover from any transient veil and his roar was just a whisper. Arose from the flood dream home. Turmoil e merged from the evidence. The exile was part of the country without corruption. So, father, from your disfrenamento states, who do you look, a law severely. And it is vain to escape, condemns me if I try it even gnawed a stone on my path, p etrified suffer nameless, formless or scrap who threw out the course of living in a torrent of thick ramure and litter. The fate that is prepared is there for me pause, No other threat. This repeats the f lood fury in his incomposta, and this repeats the thread of calm. Comes sometime s, suddenly, an hour for your heart and inhuman alarmed us by our divide. From m y make music discrepancies, then, and every enemy is your bike. Second best in m e, gap strength, your voice seems muffled. M'affisso in gravel that slopes towar d you up the steep bank above you, landslide, yellow, crossed by Stroscio rainwa ter. My life is this dry slope, half did not end at outlets open road gutters, s low landslide. It is she, again, this plant comes from the devastation in the fa ce and has shots of the sea and is suspended between the forces of erratic winds . This piece of land is not split because erbato He's born a daisy. She hesitate d in the sea that offends me, the silence is still missing in my life. I look at the land that spark, the air is so serene that darkens. And that grows in me is perhaps the rancor that every child, sea, has for the father. We do not know wh at fate tomorrow, happy or dark, perhaps our way not to touch us cite clearings where the water murmurs eternal youth, or will perhaps go down to the range extr eme, in the dark, long forgotten in the morning. Yet perhaps we welcome foreign lands: loss of memory of the sun, we will fall from the mind of the tinkling rhy mes.ÂOh, the story is expressed to our lives, suddenly be turned into gloomy st ory that is told! Although one thing we trust, father, and that is: a little of your gift is gone forever in syllables that bear with us, buzzing bees. Go away and keep it an echo of your voice, as mentioned
sun-browned grass gray in the courts, between the houses. And one day these word s without a sound that nourished thee polite weariness and silence, will seem a brotherly heart greek savory salt. I wanted to feel rough and essential as the p ebbles you volvo, eaten by the salt; splinter out of time, a witness will not go cold. Another was: that man intent on itself, in others, the heat of life in Be ijing - a man who later occasion, that no one, then destroys. I wanted to search the evil that bores the world, the bias of a small lever that stops the resourc es which can be universal and I saw all the events of the minute as ready to cra sh in a downpour. Followed the furrow of a road I took the opposite in the heart , with his invitation, and perhaps m'occorreva the knife that severs the mind th at decides and determines. Other books I needed, not your page booming. But I re gret nothing: again you undo the inward tangle with your hand. Your delusion sal t to the stars now. If I could make this my rhythm a little difficulty some of y our nonsense, since I had to give your voices Balbo my talk: I dreamed that kidn ap the brackish words in which nature and art merge to better my melancholy cry of a child aged he should not think. And instead have only the letters whips dic tionaries, and the dark voice that s'affioca love, you whining literature. I hav e only these words as published women offer themselves to those who request, I h ave these tired phrases that can steal my students tomorrow in verse real villai ns. And your diamond grows and it grows new blue shadow. Abandons me to test my thoughts. I have no meaning nor effect. I have no limit. Dissipates, if you want this low life who moans like a sponge not care ephemeral a blackboard. I am waiting to return within your foundering voyage done, I pass . My coming was witness to an order that trip I forgot, these words of mine swea r allegiance to an impossible event, and ignore it. But always Traude your gentl e surf upon the shore, seized me as one of diminished memory when he recalls his home. Taking my lesson from that open your glory, anxiety that almost does not sound any of your dreary afternoon, I see you in humility. These are but a spark of Tirso. Well I know: to burn, this, at least, is my meaning. Noon and late childhood SHADOWS The s'ingolfava roared into the curved button ba nk, sea, crossed by furrows, crisp and flocculent with foam. In contrast to the mouth of a river that the flood straboccava yellowing. Turned off dell'alighe ta ngles of trees and logs adrift. In the valley of the beach were not that hospita ble homes of enduring a few bricks, scarlet, and little more pale capellature ta marisk from hour to hour; RESISTANT creatures lost in a horror of visions. It wa s not light reading for those who look at those appearances unreliable restless soul music that is not decided. Well as hills closed in around the marina and houses wore the olive trees scatte red here and there like cattle, or soft as smoke from a house that is sailing hi s face glowing sky. Between patches of vineyards and pine forests, stony could s ee bald hills and humped backs of a man who has a spare car if one stood in the blue print was washed forever - and remember. Just waxed over the ridges of the mountains the next, but does not dare cross them tired memory. I know that road running up rifts among tangles of thorns, put in glades, gullies between then, a nd still lingered to damp recesses of mold, covered in shadows and silence. One think I still wonder where every human impulse is buried in ancient aura. Rare d emolishes some slime flies up to the world that quell'orlo amazed. But from the back streets of the mountain. Could these issues in an unstable affair unknown b ut the rhythm that governs them escaped us. Every moment burned negl'istanti fut ure without a trace. Living fortune was too new, hour by hour, and heart beat. T here was no standard, fixed line, compared to sceverare joy to sadness. But riad dotti from the house on the sea lanes, indoors asylum of our childhood surprised , quickly responded to every movement of the soul consensus outside, they wore t he names of things, our world was a center. We were virginal age where the cloud s are not numbers or symbols but they look beautiful sisters who travel. Second seed output of other lymph nourished not oursÂweak, it seemed nature. In her as ylum in her affisare the ecstatic, the wonder that she was not dreaming, or pena
lty, to reach our soul confused. We were deluded age. Flew short years as days, submerged all certainty a sea that looked healthy and voracious now looks doubtf ul trembling of tamarisk. A dawn where there was a line of light on the threshol d we announced polished like water, and we certainly ran to open the squeaky doo r on the gravel garden. The deception was revealed to us. Peated heavy clouds on the sea that there was boiling in the face, soon appeared. It was in the air wa iting for a stormy event. Strangely the plague which explores a childhood marked as a world court! We also came forward to investigate. Childhood had died in a round in a circle. Ah, the game of cannibals in the reeds, palm mustache, delici ous collection of shells fired! Flew the ripe old age like small boats on the ed ge of the sea with sails filled. Sure looked dumb violent minutes of waiting, th en the false calm above the water to put a carved wind. The AGAVE ON ROCKY Scirocco O rabida sirocco that Arsiccio yellowgreen land burn t, and in the sky full of pale light passes through some of Biocca cloud, and yo u lose. Hours puzzled, chills of a life that runs through his fingers like water ; elusive events, lighting - shadows, agitated shaky things of the earth oh Alid e air wings I am now the agave that clings to the crevices of the rock and escap e from the arms of the sea algae that opens wide grabs rocks and gorges, and in the ferment of every essence, enclosed with my buds who can not explode today fe el more like a torment my immobility. Tramontana-And now disappeared circles anxiety conversing Lake of the heart and then fry the vast material that discolors and dies. Today, an iron will sweep th e air Divella shrubs, palms and the sea rough with the compressed grooves creste d digs large burr. Each form is in turmoil shakes the elements, it is a single c ry, a Muglia scerpate of lives: everything crashes time passing: moving the dome of heaven do not know if leaves or birds - and am no more. And what are you all shaking thuds winds disfrenati between you and squeeze the arms swollen with fl owers unborn, as enemies feel the spirits that convulsed the earth flying in swa rms, my waist, and how you love your roots today. Mistral He's redone the calm in the air between the rocks mumbai the swell. Quie ted the coast, in orchards, a few palm penalty stands. Disfiora caress the sea l ine and ruffles for a moment, breath that light broken and yet the journey resum es. Lameggia clear in the vast expanse, ripples, then it paves blessed and mirro red in its vast CODEST poor heart my troubled life. Oh my trunk additives, in th is late ebrietudine every aspect reborn with flower buds on your hands, look: un der the blue sky a bird of dense sea of leaves, nor ever stop, because all the i mages will also wrote: " farther! BATH went on a shimmering glass of rice belladonna flower of copper was urgent a mong the clouds, the view from the bottom it riassommava flaky and faded. Some o f us took a shiny pebble that broke the tense: the soft appearances dashed. But here, there's another thing that moves on the surface of smooth hopes redone: th e virtues did not erupt, wants to live and not know how, if you look at it falls off, back down: he was born and died, and had a name . Getting lost in Eclogue gray wave of my olive trees was good in the old days - t alkative riottanti of birds and brooks singers. As the heel dug into the soil cr acked between the blades of exile silver leaves. Disconnected thoughts sprang to
mind too much the air of tranquility. Now it is finished cerul moire. It throws to break the grigiura pine, burning a patch of sky above, a spider is ripped to the past and releasing around one hour of failure. It came a rumble of the trai n, not far away, thickens. A shot glass is crushed nell'etra. Screaming a flight as a shower, wind and vanishes burned an armful of your bitter rind, instant: f urious bursts deviates a dog. Soon will revive the romance. He's reconstructed t he stage hanging from the sky, bandages can read out ..., the thick bundle of be ans and catered erased. Rapid'ale no longer useful or beneficial purpose bold; do not last that solemn cicadas in these Saturnalia of the heat. It comes and go es in an instant a dense appearance of a woman. Disparsa It was not a Bacchante. Corneggia later on the moon. We returned from our vagabondari unsuccessful. Was no longer in the face of world record time of hectic afternoon. Disturbed desce nded between vepro. In my country at that time began to whistle the hares. FLOWS The children with bows scare the wren in the holes. Cola in the lazy sunny sorrade rial that sloth, the stars give pause to the white walkers malvito stre ets. High, trembling, craggy elders and dominate the hill which overlooks a stat ue made of Summer by stoning snub-nosed, and she grows a ruddy with creepers and a buzzing drones. But the goddess mutilated and not overlooking everything tend s to slow flotilla of paper that follows the wall. Shines in the air an arrow, i t would conflict if one pole, swings trembling. Life is trite facts of this wast e, open space rather than cruel. Return the tribes of the children with slingsho ts if you last a season or a minute, and the dead discovered aspects unchanged e ven if everything is ruined and most of its rama does not depend on the outcome known. - Boys are back ..., so one day around that governs our lives we will cit e the distant past, crushed and vivid, real estate tends to be printed on an unk nown lanterna.E still stretches a celestial dome and tarnished the thick boiling stream the Gap: the statue and only knows that time and rushed s'infrasca stree ts nell'accesa ivy. And everything goes downhill in the great flood and the impetuous ditch this rip pling its mirrors are shipwrecked in the small eddies xebec dell'acquiccia soapy . Goodbye! - Whistling stones between the fronds, the rapacious fortune is far a way, drops an hour, its faces riconfonde, and life is cruel than useless. SLOPE is the sound of trumpets from the chasm that is rent, down towards the sea trembles and cracks to accommodate it. Haul in the shadows sucker throat with t he word dissolved on the ground breakers; dismemora the world and you can be reb orn. With boats dawn light explains its great sails and find room in their heart s the hope. But now the morning is far, the light escapes and s'aduna over emine nces and leaves, and everything is more intimate and closer as a visa through a needle's eye, and now the end is certain, and s'anche feel the wind is silent fi le that saw constant chain that binds us. Like a musical landslide descendeth th e sound goes away. That dispersed accepted entries from unwanted arid crevasses, the groan of the slope, between the screws tighten the laces of roots. The Cliv e has more poles, his hands clutch the branches of dwarf pines, and then tremble s and diminishes the glare of day, and an order that follows the borders untangl e things that do not ask now that endure, to persist happy ' infinite fatigue co llapse of stones from the sky sinks to the brave ... In the evening lying barely hears a wail of horns, a decay. The whirlwinds ARSENIO raise the dust on roofs, in eddies, and the clearings des erts, where the hooded horses sniff the ground, motionless before the glass glea
ming hotels. On the course, facing the sea, you descend on this day or piovorno hours on, where par shots to upset the equal hours, close in texture, a chorus o f castanets. It is a sign of another orbit: follow it. Descend on the horizon ab ove a trumpet lead, high on eddies, most of them wandering: salt cloud swirling, blown by the rebel element to the clouds, is that you step on the gravel crunch and the tangled seaweed t'inciampi : moment is perhaps long-awaited end to save you from your trip, a chain ring, motionless go, oh too familiar delirium, Arse nio, of stillness ... Play between the palms of the jet tremulous violins off wh en the thunder rolls with a rustle of sheets struck, the storm is gushing white sweet when the star of Dog Days in the blue sky and long par at night which is n ext: If the lightning affect, branching like a tree valued by the light s'arrosa : the eardrum and the roar of the gypsy is silent. Descend into the darkness tha t falls silent noon and night in a lighted globes, swaying to the shore, and out , which takes only a shadow sea and sky, from the fishing boats scattered beats acetylene drop until the trembling sky, the smoke s'abbevera soil, all of you ne xt foams, flapping curtains soft rustle immense skims the ground, hurled down th e grinding paper lanterns on the streets. Thus lost among the reeds and mats dri pping, rush you drag along the roots, slippery, never svelte, trembling with lif e and you lean in a vacuum resonant groans stifled, the tense you ringhiotte wav e old you turns , and yet All you again, you Figge road porch wall mirrors in one icy multitude of deaths, and if a gesture touch you, one word comes down next, what is it, Arsene, the h our when it melts, the sign of a strangled life for you whatsoever, and the wind carries the ashes of the stars. III CRISALIDE The tree is dark green and tender yellow streak s'ingromma. Vibrat es in the air a pity for the greedy roots, for the swollen bark.ÂThese plants a re yours to breath for the poor that are renewed in April, wet and happy. For me , that you from this, another bush greens again, and you. Every moment brings ne w leaves and its consternation surpasses all other joys fugitive comes to life i n sudden waves in this extreme corner of garden. The gaze now falls on the turf, an undertow of memory reaches your heart and nearly drowns. Lounge echoes a cry here precipitates over time, spare with swift eddies between the rocks, every m emory is gone, and I from the dark my hand I stretch out in this latter event ca lendar. You do not think that carried away like today, then, the silent partner that afternoon wore away there. You are my prey, offering me an hour short of hu man tremor. Lose, I would not for a moment: this is my part, each other is futil e. My wealth is that you splash through and turn the face upwards, this slow lap of eyes now can see. So be sure of a moment with a fluttering of tents and tree s between the houses, but does not dissolve the shadow that claim, opaque. Appea r to me then, like me, in the limbo of squalid lives maimed, and even your rebir th is a sterile secret, failed as a wonder all those that bloom in next. And the flood which shows above the bars as we sometimes speak of salvation as t he illusion can arise agile, and release its fumes. Go spiraling sea, now they m erge on the horizon in the shape of schooners. It stands for a flight without a roar, the waters of lead halcyon refugee sparse. The sun goes under cloud, time of fever, trembling, ends. A glorious breathlessness without clashing beats in m y throat check muggy afternoon in the boat of salvation, it arrives: see that fo ams between the banks, it's a boat which turns the gentle surf - and there befor e us. Chrysalis Ah, how bitter this nameless torture us Volvo and sets us apart - and then are not even our footprints in the dust and we go on without shifting only a stone's great wall, and maybe everything is fixed, all is written, and w e will not arise because the freedom, the miracle that was not necessary! Is not in the blue wave and wake. The signs have altered the beach, before collecting a sweet lap. The silence there in his corner and closed her lips to speak the pa ct that I would shake his destiny to serve your joy with my conviction. It is th
e vote that I was born again in the chest, then eventually every motion. I then think to argue that offers silent houses of the living heart that abdicates laug h because a child unconscious, to cut that severs, which quickened the dying bon fire of a dry pole, and seething trembling. Moire bailing, and already the boat becomes unbalanced and the water is crystal sands. He's emerged from a cave at this ranch that a marine zephyr mess. No crow d, as indeed in the dark, the swarm that spreads dusk, bats, and the oar that sc ours the shadow does not offend the more rocky wall. Outside is the sun stops in his lap and flames. The cable sky and it shows Estua r, glass does not splinter. A fisherman from a boat his line in the current row. See the world of the fund is emerging as transformed by a lens. In that small s hell splashes, abandoned the oars to oarlocks, does not that remind you that pea t reproves those quiet afternoons. We closed in and around showers svoli, the ai r wing is soft. Disproportions: too much light turbid. Droop only thoughts too. Everything soon will be rougher, the wave of bloom darker stripes. Now it remain s so under the flood of sunlight ends. A corrugated subverts boundaries made abs tract forms means any decisive force already enjoying the journey. Life grows in spurts. It's like a fire without a fire that was prepared for clear signs, in t his dim light we do in this flame burning faces and commitments. Dissolve the he avy heart in opening wave, sinking like a stone ballast water your name with a t hud! An astral disfrena delirium, an evil calm and bright. Maybe we will see now that the cheers coming to meet us on the ardent hopes. We descend on the slopes of low vines in the flat. There starling Gleaners with inhuman voices. Oh, the summer harvest, the flaw in the stars! - And from these we derived in a stupor o f remorse stained. Talk and do not recognize your accent. The memory you get was hed. You are gone and yet you feel your life consumed. Now what happens?, You tr y again the weight of you, unexpected burden things swinging on its hinges, and the spell is lifted. Ah, here we are, we are not different. Properties like this. Nobody listens to our voice. So submerged i n a maelstrom of blue s'infolta. HOUSE BY THE SEA The trip ends here: the petty cares that divide the soul no lon ger knows how to cry. Now the minutes are equal and fixed as the spins of the pu mp. A lap: a climb of water that thunders. Another, altr'acqua, sometimes a sque ak. The trip ends at the beach trying the regular and slow flows. Reveals nothin g if not lazy smoke the marine basins of the plot to blow leni: and rarely appea rs in calm air changes between the islands of Corsica migrabonde back or Capraia . You ask if it everything vanishes in this little mist of memories, if that Tor pe hour or the moment you make every breath destiny. I would say no, that is app roaching the time that you spend beyond time, perhaps only those who want s'infi nita, and that you can, who knows, not me. I think for most it is not salvation, but someone subverts any drawings, close the gap, what we wanted to find. I wou ld like first to give CODEST marked as fleeting escape riots in the fields of se a foam or wrinkle. I give you my hope too stingy. A 'new day, tired, I can not g row to offer a pledge to your fate, you prawns. The path ends at these brave gna wing the tide with alternate motion. Your heart does not hear me close that perh aps already sailed for the eternal. The dead sea that breaks on the opposite bank will leverage a cloud that foams absorb it until the flat. There he threw o
ne day on the iron coast, panting over ocean is our hope! - And the whirlpool st erile green as in we saw among the living. Now that the kite flattens knot curre nts and murky sauces wave drew addressed, some hang around the branches coppice networks dilunganti the boulevard that descends over the eye nets drying touch f aded late and cold light, and above these dense the crystal of blue eyelids and precipitates in an arc of horizon scourged. More algae in the eddy that drags us it turns out, stop that moves our lives in us, resigned turbine to 'its borders risto a day between the wires connecting one branch to another as the heart str uggles hen sea s'insacca through the net, and still holds us in orbit and a cold stare. So perhaps it removed all the dead rest in clumps: a force of more ruthl ess then draws them live, and around the ghosts reproached human memories, turni ng them to these shores, no matter wind or sound betrayed by darkness, and the h ubs we touch their flights just now we just divided the sea and in the sieve flo od ... DELTA life that breaks in racking secrets you've linked: one that struggles in i tself and seems almost not you know, there suffocated. When the time floods its dams your fortune to its immense, and surface, memory, more obvious where you de scended from the dark region, as now, the dopopioggia is riaddensa green branche s, the walls the cinabrese. I ignore all of you out of the silent message that s ustains me on the way: If form exist in fume or whims of a dream t'alimenta The river that infebbra, peat, and crashes with the tide. Nothing of you in the wavering of bige or rent by a flash of sulfur outside the whistle of the tug tha t the mists to the Gulf port. Meet you my sadness does not leave me on the road hits the wind pierce co 'his w arm eddies, and spare; dear sadness that exhausts the breath: and this pushed th e bay where the latest entries on the day traveling exhales a fog, high yields o f cormorant wing. Is beside the mouth of the stream of sterile water, live rocks and limes, but more ragged mouth of human acts, of pale fading lives across the border that encloses us in a circle: emunti faces, bony hands, horses in a row , squeaky wheels: no lives: of the other sea vegetation above the flood. It goes on carriage of congealed mud without a gap, similar to stumbled to march, under the arch which is broken down almost a mirror of the windows in an aura that su rrounds our feet thick and equals the curtains of the floating Sargasso human wh ispering bamboo. If you leave me too, sadly, only omen living in this cloud, it seems that I will pour a buzz around what ball when an hour is about to strike, and I fall off of inert waiting who can not be afraid of this shore that has sur prised the slow wave, which does not appear. Perhaps regain my appearance: light grazing in a movement he leads me beside a poor foliage in a vase s'alleva if o ne port tavern. She holds out her hand, and make my life a different feel, a for m of space that was taken from me and almost no rings on his fingers twist leave s me but hair. Then nothing. Oh, black!: Odd you what you came, and I know nothing ab out you. Your life is all yours: among the rare flashes of the day already sprea d. Pray for me then I descended another way that a way of cities, lost in the ai r, before the bustle of the living;ÂI feel you near, I fall without cowardice. RIVIERE Riviere, just a few stalks of erbaspada hanging from a ridge on the sea of delusion, or two camellias will pale desert gardens and a eucalyptus blonde t hat jumps between sfrusci and crazy flying into the light and saw that in a mome nt invisible wires I will asserpano butterfly in a spider thrills of olive, sunf
lower eyes. Sweet captivity today, Rivieras who give up nearly as reviving an an cient game never forgotten. I remember the acrid filter porgeste the lost teenag er, or the banks: in the clear morning fused spines of hills and sky, the sand o f the beaches was a large suction, an equal rustle of lives a feverish world, an d every thing in itself seemed to be consumed. Oh, then tossed like the waves fr om cuttlebone vanish little by little, become a tree or a rough stone polished b y the sea in the colors of sunsets merge, disappear meat source to hurry up drun k with sun, sun devoured ... These were, rivers, the votes of the child next to an ancient balustrade rose slowly dying with a smile. As, marine, these cold lig hts talk to those who tortured you fled. Water passages between blades scoprenti si of labile ramure; brown rocks between foams; arrow swifts tramps ... Oh, I belie ve a day or lands, beauties funeral, gold frames of every agony. Today I return to you stronger, or deception, well that the heart seems to melt in happy memori es - and atrocious. Sad soul, past and new that you will call me, time is perhap s even join in a peaceful harbor of wisdom. And one day it will still call the v oices of gold, daring flattery, my soul is not more divided. Think: the song cha nged into elegy, rebuild and there will be more. Power similar to these branches and stripped naked yesterday and today full of thrills and sap, but tomorrow we hear among the perfumes and the winds a riaffluir of dreams, a crowd of voices to be urgent outcome, and the sun v'investe, rivers , flourish!
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