The Connectors

Gentle are your touches
As you get together,
Surrounded by people
And Cars

Asphalt not under
Your Feet

Red tail-lights,
Like burning desires,
Are moving by side.

Melancholic sight,
Sleepy eye.
Rumble
Tremble.

Underground of tinkling glass
Lonely static
In a blur crowded bus.

Introduction to The Connectors

"This is for you ,girl,
Those, whose love
I’d never want to know.
Those from whom
I’d never grow.

The golden eye, you are,
Of my morning light
Under a brilliant tired sky
Whom I’ll keep guard
To its still of life.

Never felt your voice,
Neater heard any noise:
Silence and Joy,
In a restless fade,
Trying to be avoid."

Giara Magnetica

Giara: otre di vetro,
Di vento di eco,
Estasi del timpano,
accostato al lucido freddo.
Riascolto del sospiro
-Nastro magnetico-
Lasciato addietro, che
Riesuma i cadaveri del cielo.
Mentre si sperde tremula,
Rapita dalla folata,
La frase tra le labbra,
Quasi non sprigionata,
In un filo di voce...

PD

I know what it means
But will you?
This is my regression
My free yell in hell.
Even in this last parade,
What you cal possession,
Has been already lost,
Through a slow fade.

Death, rebirth and my joke
On those game made by the voice
Makes you a shock.
I'll said it again
Why should it be a problem?
You've never respected
Any of it, but Its name
Burns your fears,
While I shout it loud.

On The First Day Of Loss [Pt3]

On the first day of loss,
Everything was strange.
Turning and not founding
Waiting for memories
Never came.
Wanting to sink
With that heart so free

On the first day of loss
There was only silence
The contact not ringing.
Out from the blank walls
Standing before the road
Furrow in the park
With the immortal comforting me

This comes only backwards
This comes only backwards
This comes only backwards
[When you leave it to the mind]

On the first day of loss
I don’t even remember
But it has become
The sum of all the days
Don’t remember
It’s the sum of all the days,
Since this, last, one.

This comes only backwards
This comes only backwards
This comes only backwards
[When you leave it to the mind]

The process comes in the head
Comes in the head
Comes in the head
[When outside is dark]

The process comes in the head
Comes in the head
Comes in the head
[When outside falls the night]

Monumento Funebre

Il mare di colonne
Sormonta la mia testa.
Una luce crudele taglia
La lustra pietra.
Schiacciato dal granito
Ho il respiro mozzato…
Alzo lo sguardo
Alla croce del cielo,
E miro l’arido baglior
Che avrebbe potuto
Illuminare il tuo volto,
E rifletterlo nel nero liscio
Contro cui t’avrei amato.
Pochi passi, mirando la linea cinerea
Del muro: sotto altri figuri
Mi scorgo vagare,
Non pesti ne oppressi,
C’anche ci colsero
Lo sguardo incrociare.

|| Released with the photo "Paranoid Walk" on Flickr

On The First Day Of Loss

|| Introduction

"We could stop here for now."



|| Somewhere Before*

Everything turned for a while.
In the middle of nowhere,
When my eyes where almost asleep,
Everything was so linear.
I had enough time to metabolize,
Enough time to realize.

The stairs descendent low,
The street, now in the heist,
Approached me with no warmth;
But after, it was nothing
But a little pain in the stomach.


|| Record Paper, Train & Marble**

Here, again, it pass.
Like a grain in the water, it pass.
Can't I feel anything?
It has been an instant, quick, delightful.
Then that sensation, old, immediate.
Few hours with the mind to others times.
And then the veil spreads on everything.
The window shouted again.
The shell clench upon me,
Sealing me.
Am I turning to the beginning?
Watching this end, I think yes.

* On The First Day Of Loss Pt1
** On The First Day Of Loss Pt2

Aspettando il viaggio | Waiting for the Trip

Steli d’erba, flessuose figure
Dal movimento fluido dell’onda
Quale s’increspa lieve sul pelo
Dell’acqua dal color terra
Nel rivo del canale adiacente.
E trame sono tessute e disfatte
Da instancabili penelopi alate;
Così come il ramingo, lontano,
Schiude gli occhi al mattino,
Con le spalle volte alla casa
E tenace cambia il cammino,
Sotto un cielo a strati
Tagliato da moti nuvolari.

[The english version will be published in a second moment due to stilistical problem]

Pleasure

Writing some words,
Loosing the world.
Giving pleasure,
Asking for pleasure.

Time goes by
And I feel the sky.
The windows shows
The face of some one
That should not come.

Writing some thoughts,
Loosing in my world.
Giving pleasure,
Looking for pleasure.

The road spinning wide,
The dust in my mind,
Makes me fall into emptiness.
I'm calling you,
Into the bliss of my senses.

I smiled to the city.
I smiled to the ground.
I smiled to the dark,
As we walked into the night.

I smiled to your face.
I smiled for that glance.
I smiled for your grace,
That moved me into the night.



// New Rearranged Version

Road To Homeless

Same road avery day,
Each time so different.
Colors of grey became
So pink and bright;
When the people took a look,
The sky turned blue.
And the speak of no one
Was the only role.

|| Published With The Photo "Factory Trip" on Flickr

Erased

Looking to the sky,

Lying on the grass,

I find myself.

Nothing in mind,

On the face just a smile.

Under the sun

I'm going to try

What made you cry.

To understand

How you lived.

I didn't know

I could be like this.

Change side,

You still find yourself low.

I'm still crawling for more

But I'm sure you'll fall apart.

I'm giving all I got,

And It's just a matter of time,

Before I'll be erased.

The blank I see.

Is so full.

I find myself laughing

for visions

that I've never seen.

The time passed

Is not been wasted,

Even if I'll be erased

I'll vanish soon.

You will not.

In some way,

In some end,

Something of me will remain

I didn't know

I could be like this.

Change side,

You still find yourself low.

I'm still crawling for more

But I'm sure you'll fall apart.

I'm giving all I got,

And It's just a matter of time,

Before I'll be erased.

Due

Potrei, della luce che ti faceva gioco,
Fare lucenti collane che abbaglino:
Piccole gioie che, anche se per poco,
Al collo d’una bambina giovino.

Ma dell’ombra che l’altra avvolgeva,
Potrei tessere un fular che gli animi inabissi:
Placido vanto che, forte, ogni dubbio leva
All’occhio che, sognante, la fissi.

E voi, assieme, come cielo e mare,
L’una nell’altra vi specchiate,
Ed io stupito rimango a guardare,

Voi, che sulla linea dell’orizzonte,
Confondendovi assieme, vi compenetrate
Divenendo un desiderio dalla natura bifronte.

Quiete prima della notte e del giorno seguente

La luce gialla sporca queste pagine,
Mentre scrivo con mano ferma.
Non c'è niente, assolutamente
Niente, che mi preme il cuore;
Non un turbine non un tremore:
Nulla giunge inaspettatamente.
Chiuso nei vapori d'una terma,
Non temo per esso la ruggine
Mentre scomprare il sole ad oriente.

Sometimes

"Some times I'am the color of the air

Some times It's only after....

Watch the sky moves sideways

And hear...

Some times I feel like a

Some times I'am the color of the air...."

I should I've done
Everything on my soul
To make a different future
From those few pasts.
Lips of persuasion,
I'm the color of the air.

Occhio della Tempesta

Parte 3

Scenario sublime
Ora specchio di tempesta
Rilegato
In un contorno di foresta
Di palazzi e mura.
Preme l'acqua
Sulla tempia
Sporta da una finestra
Ove mai più siederò.

Al Freddo Ostinato

Vago come in tenebre,
Senza la tutela di un lume,
Nella nube di ricordi,
D’un tempo or celebre.

Il profilo ricercato
Nella coltre fumosa,
Che lento trapasso,
Ostinato rimane velato,

Quasi che, ebro del suo sguardo,
Il mio pensiero vinto,
Dall'anestetizzato gaudio,
Non lo focalizzi nel vago riquadro.

Come cieco barcollo perso
Nelle tenebre tediose
Di questa folta bruma,
Che unisce, in un profilo terso,

Tutte le azioni remote;
Che tramutano così,
Da malinconiche gioie,
A sempre più frammentate note:

… Non odo parole
Che enunciavi liete
Non vedo mura
Che si levavano discoste
Non trovo la pelle
Dal sapore del miele
Non riprovo alcun dolore
Ma l’immagine gelida
D’un intenso candore…

Dachau

Luce opaca
Il grigio e'l verde:
Dal cielo nessuno sguardo.
Cemento che strozza
E viene strozzato
Da metallo e reti.
Un fossato che scava
E dell'acqua così spettrale
Nel ruomore
Delle sue fluttuazioni

|| Published With The Photo "Should be free..." on Flickr

Adieu Sous Une Basilique

L’ultimo spiro,
Dai polmoni, freddo, scaturito,
Si perde in un cielo prismico.
Vola il pensiero, dentro iridi dilatate
Dall’ennesimo siero, ma resiste
Ancora criptica
La domanda persa:
-Perché?-
Come risposta un lamento
E calda acqua, dagli occhi,
Come un rivo lento.

Telefonino Random [English Version]

Apathy in the streets and in the houses.
Naked in front of blank screens,
Fearing for blank planets
I find myself without my icon.
I’ll show you the world where I live.
You’ll joy my joy without color and taste.
I’ll entrust my body in your hands:
Free it from the cables.
Then, maybe, my words
Will know how to talk to you.
Come in this apathy let her take you.
We’ll going to fall asleep blessed.
We’ll going to fall asleep blessed.

|| Italian Version Posted on 23 | 03 | 08

Al mattino (Sarto)

Vedo l'uomo fuori dall'aria
Seduto e così assorto.
Turpidi i pensieri, riflessi negli occhi;
Scarlatto il mantello.
Sembra l'araldo della gioia
E'l mattino diverso e distorto
Risulta con le tue mani nei tuoi fogli
Un richiamo fratello.