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Guido Monte

 

 

 

                             Aha  #2: Milton

                                          Paradise lost and my babbles

 

 

Sa idam uktavān 1:

in the beginning, out of Chaos,

no light, but rather darkness visible

 

sed inter tenebras 2  the mind...

in itself can make a heaven of hell,

                              a hell of heaven

 

îmi amintesc 3  the palpable obscure

et etiam tam jetum yatate 4

the void profound of unessential night

 

et for evil only good, eu cad 5

where all life dies, death lives

                                nu vă place? 6

 

through the void immense to search

with wandering quest a place foretold...

                                   kartum na yujyate 7

 

 

The Sanskrit term aha embraces all the letters of the alphabet in her depth, symbolically embracing  the whole universe.  

 

notes

1 so he said

2 but between the darkness

3 I remember

4 he tries to win it

5 I fall

6 don’t you like?

7 it isn’t worth

 

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Incerta vox  (Babbeln)

                                                                                “ …babae, babae!”

                                                                    Petronius A. Satyricon, 37

 

(“qué pasa?”

einu sinni enn sólin skín, afturkoma...”)

  universo de universos,

 la lumière       luit dans the darkness

   en medio del silencio profundo:

(“khob, no ké resid bé bâzâr kohné shavad delâzâr”) -

en la eternitad…

la luz, no pueden sofocarla,

se para la marea, y no saber adónde vamos…

(«róba, pródajeteli ?» «né,dósta»);

et Parcae dixerunt saeculo: mahlip...

iau, atti, attunu, mamma,      mala bašû -

esperad todavía

 

Babble*

 

(“what’s going on here?”

“the sun shines over again, returns...”)

universe of universes,

the Light shines over the darkness again

inside a deeper silence:

(“when the new is in, the old is out ”) -

inside an infinite time

the Light, indeed, can’t be off,

and the tide ceases… without knowing where we are going to…

(“do you sell goods?”  “no, that’s enough!”);

and Parcae: the new age was asked a change...

everybody, everything, you, I,     all that exists -

hope a little longer

 

Balbettamento

 

(“che succede?” “ splende ancora il sole, è un ritorno...”)

oh universo d’universi, la  luce riscalda tenebre dentro cupo silenzio

(“cacciano l’antico per il nuovo...”)

in eterno non potranno respingere la luce,

s’alza la marea e non sai dove andare

( “Vendete?” “no, basta”)

 e le Parche dicono al tempo: cambia...

 me  te  tutto –

spera ancora tuttavia

 

·        the author thanks Liliana Lo Giudice

 

 

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journey to the dream two doors

                                         … and verses of Petronius

 

                                                                    Sunt geminae Somni portae...

                                                                   [two are the doors to Dream]

                                                                           ( Vergil, Aeneis VI )

 

                                                              “there/are/ no/ righteous/wars”

                                                  (Ezra Pound, The Spring and Autumn)

 

 ( “dies...nihil est – the day... is the slightest thing

dum versas te, nox fit , just one little move

                                             and the night has fallen”.

Hoy los americanos viven en el miedo, eso murmúra

 el diario, lo ha eschuchado desde el viento del Norte.

 Moi aussi, de ma fenêtre, j'attends l'attaque radiactif

qui remporte pour jamais tous les hommes

 sous les petits ruisseaux des trottoirs...)

 

Alone I keep a long night vigil,

on the asphalt road long lines of shades,

                         to the two dream ways >

 

there aren’t right wars...

non esistono guerre giuste

non sunt iusta bella

il n’existe pas de guerres justes  

koi bi lharai thik nhi he

                  

 > in the Hades depths:

a steel building,

all the Authorities burning inside (what a silly demagogy),

Prime Ministers Kings Generals & their disfigured faces,

cropped ears cropped noses. And (once hailing) crowds crawl

 before the river (in vain!), just shades

                                                  hunting for themselves…

(“ nos non pluris sumus quam bullae,

human beings: only bubbles, no more”)

 

the weeping camp smells of hospital wards,

 syrinxes phleboclysis crutches & amputation saws.

 The woman-kamikaze: no arms; her mother, no legs,

                                                     killed in a refugee camp.

there aren’t right wars...

non esistono guerre giuste

non sunt iusta bella

il n’existe pas de guerres justes

koi bi lharai thik nhi he

                                   

 

“Elì Elì, lemà sabactani?”

 

      (comme en apparence de rêve  nous traversons la porte d'ivoire)

 

> at the dream doors:   few guests in the Fourth House,

                on the stream only green leaves, pebbles & nests

                                                  on the water-lilies…

                     a twinkling morning star

(“cum sciamus nos morituros esse, quare non vivamus ?

we know the end; why don’t we really live?”)

 

 

there aren’t right wars...

non esistono guerre giuste

non sunt iusta bella

il n’existe pas de guerres justes                                       

koi bi lharai thik nhi he

 

 

                                                   finished. Go 

 

 

 

( the author thanks  Rosa Maria Costa, Jatin Surjit  and Liliana Lo Giudice )

 

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Guido Monte was born in 1962. On the web, see also:

 http://www.wordswithoutborders.org/article.php?lab=Genesis    http://www.mid.muohio.edu/segue/index.htm
http://www.litterae.net/Trad%20Virgil.htm
http://www.happano.org/pages/fragments/63.html