Ask me anything   My name is Lorenzo, 26years old, Italian, from Naples and this Mal'ore (in italian 'malore' means 'unease' but 'ma l'ore' means 'yet the hours') is my world of images, poetry, boys, film, music, art, fashion and humor.
I can (re)blog only those things have affected my memory or my heart, or just hit me.

X Agosto, Giovanni Pascoli - la notte delle stelle cadenti (the night of the shooting stars)

San Lorenzo, io lo so perché tanto
di stelle per l’aria tranquilla
arde e cade, perché sì gran pianto
nel concavo cielo sfavilla.

Ritornava una rondine al tetto:
l’uccisero: cadde tra i spini;
ella aveva nel becco un insetto:
la cena dei suoi rondinini.

Ora è là, come in croce, che tende
quel verme a quel cielo lontano;
e il suo nido è nell’ombra, che attende,
che pigola sempre più piano.

Anche un uomo tornava al suo nido:
l’uccisero: disse: Perdono;
e restò negli aperti occhi un grido:
portava due bambole in dono.

Ora là, nella casa romita,
lo aspettano, aspettano in vano:
egli immobile, attonito, addita
le bambole al cielo lontano.

E tu, Cielo, dall’alto dei mondi
sereni, infinito, immortale,
oh! d’un pianto di stelle lo inondi
quest’atomo opaco del Male!

_______

The 10th of August

San Lorenzo, I know way so many stars are burning and falling in the tranquil air, why such great weeping sparkles in the concave sky.

A swallow was returning to its home: they killed her: she fell amongst thorns; in her beak she had an insect: the dinner for her little swallows.

Now she is there, as if on a cross, holding out that worm to the distant heaven; and her nest is in the shadow waiting, chirping ever more softly.

A man was also going back to his nest: they killed him: he said: ‘Forgiveness’; and in his open eyes there remained a scream: he was bringing two dolls as presents …

Now there, in the remote house, they are waiting for him, waiting in vain: he, motionless, astonished, points the dolls to the distant heaven.

And you, Heaven, from the heights of serene worlds, infinite, immortal, oh! with a weeping of stars you flood this atom, opaque with Evil.

Vincent Van Gogh, The Starry Night, 1889, oil on canvas

— 4 anni fa con 2 note
#poetry  #van gogh  #1880  #pascoli 
  1. justpointanthink ha rebloggato questo post da andmymouthisanhourglassofblood
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