tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9679811328606801802024-03-28T06:53:33.479+01:00BAGLIORE RESIDUOricordando che non è mai l'ultimo
ma semmai che prelude a qualcosaGujilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494976386454197952noreply@blogger.comBlogger4832125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-967981132860680180.post-11534252723661585792024-03-28T06:52:00.006+01:002024-03-28T06:52:34.834+01:00Stringiti a me, di Gabriele D'Annunzio
<div class="pt-4 pt-md-5" style="text-align: center;"><div class="merri-font p-poem" style="display: inline-block;"><div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Stringiti a me</span></b></span></div><div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></b></span></div><div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Stringiti a me,</span></b></span></div>
<div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">abbandonati a me,</span></b></span></div>
<div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">sicura.</span></b></span></div>
<div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Io non ti mancherò</span></b></span></div>
<div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">e tu non mi mancherai.</span></b></span></div>
<div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Troveremo,</span></b></span></div>
<div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">troveremo la verità segreta</span></b></span></div>
<div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">su cui il nostro amore</span></b></span></div>
<div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">potrà riposare per sempre,</span></b></span></div>
<div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">immutabile.</span></b></span></div>
<div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Non ti chiudere a me,</span></b></span></div>
<div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">non soffrire sola,</span></b></span></div>
<div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">non nascondermi il tuo tormento!</span></b></span></div>
<div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Parlami,</span></b></span></div>
<div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">quando il cuore</span></b></span></div>
<div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">ti si gonfia di pena.</span></b></span></div>
<div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Lasciami sperare</span></b></span></div>
<div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">che io potrei consolarti.</span></b></span></div>
<div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Nulla sia taciuto fra noi</span></b></span></div>
<div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">e nulla sia celato.</span></b></span></div>
<div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Oso ricordarti un patto</span></b></span></div>
<div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">che tu medesima hai posto.</span></b></span></div>
<div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Parlami</span></b></span></div>
<div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">e ti risponderò</span></b></span></div>
<div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">sempre senza mentire.</span></b></span></div>
<div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Lascia che io ti aiuti,</span></b></span></div>
<div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">poiché da te</span></b></span></div>
<div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">mi viene tanto bene!</span></b></span></div><div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></b></span></div><div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Gabriele D'Annunzio</span></b></span></div><div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></b></span></div><div class="verse "><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/L3DriO3L2wE" width="320" youtube-src-id="L3DriO3L2wE"></iframe></div></span></b></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #38761d;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></b></i></span></span></span></div></div><div class="verse "><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #38761d;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></b></i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #38761d;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Passionevole amore grida</span></b></i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #38761d;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">sogni, desiderata, lontani;</span></b></i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #38761d;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">pregresso contesto rivedo</span></b></i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #38761d;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">volto che ricoprii di baci...</span></b></i></span></span></span> <br /></div></div></div></div>Gujilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494976386454197952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-967981132860680180.post-57338311348082211752024-03-27T06:30:00.004+01:002024-03-27T06:30:42.446+01:00Dove vai?, di Anonimo<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFKZMDVOpKIxsfyvehd8U2iVBS6K3qJDdt_LQv5_QNkxh9ne3iZV73MOkBaKzloqYx75WBrI8u3TTIaiSQNAwnCOd1Fq7614YP5ulA8pQcQ_LMa5mpVkm1Smvq1X-WnHvV-i5CisQecEuxjYZW8xe_fJEUZSk1ozT6DLntOQ2_EPktq3c11QH94q5P77Rt/s1000/Mango-DOVE-VAI-02-1676650704.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFKZMDVOpKIxsfyvehd8U2iVBS6K3qJDdt_LQv5_QNkxh9ne3iZV73MOkBaKzloqYx75WBrI8u3TTIaiSQNAwnCOd1Fq7614YP5ulA8pQcQ_LMa5mpVkm1Smvq1X-WnHvV-i5CisQecEuxjYZW8xe_fJEUZSk1ozT6DLntOQ2_EPktq3c11QH94q5P77Rt/w460-h640/Mango-DOVE-VAI-02-1676650704.gif" width="460" /></a></div></span></span></b></span></span></span></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span><span>Dove vai?</span></span></b></span></span></span></i></span></span><br /></div><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="color: #2b00fe;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Dove vai?</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Quando tramonta l'anima</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">la sera, tristezza grande</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">che ricopre di pena il cuore.</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Infiniti espliciti collassano</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">in condensate lacrime</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">mentre il buio incede.</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span> </span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span><i><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span><span>Anonimo</span></span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: small;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span>del XX° Secolo</span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: small;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span> </span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: x-small;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span>Poesie ritrovate</span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><p> </p>Gujilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494976386454197952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-967981132860680180.post-70389125370228551802024-03-26T07:35:00.006+01:002024-03-26T07:35:58.141+01:00Non ho smesso di pensarti.., di Charles Bukowsky<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #800180;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Non ho smesso di pensarti,<br />
vorrei tanto dirtelo.<br />
Vorrei scriverti che mi piacerebbe tornare,<br />
che mi manchi<br />
e che ti penso.<br />
Ma non ti cerco.<br />
Non ti scrivo neppure ciao.<br />
Non so come stai.<br />
E mi manca saperlo.<br />
Hai progetti?<br />
Hai sorriso oggi?<br />
Cos’hai sognato?<br />
Esci?<br />
Dove vai?<br />
Hai dei sogni?<br />
Hai mangiato?<br />
Mi piacerebbe riuscire a cercarti.<br />
Ma non ne ho la forza.<br />
E neanche tu ne hai.<br />
Ed allora restiamo ad aspettarci invano.<br />
E pensiamoci.<br />
E ricordami.<br />
E ricordati che ti penso,<br />
che non lo sai ma ti vivo ogni giorno,<br />
che scrivo di te.<br />
E ricordati che cercare e pensare son due cose diverse.<br />
Ed io ti penso<br />
ma non ti cerco.</span></b></span></span></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #800180;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Charles Bukowski</span></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #800180;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #800180;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/nx4waFT0T8A" width="320" youtube-src-id="nx4waFT0T8A"></iframe></div></span></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #800180;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Verità indelebile sfuma</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">nel grigioverde mimetico;</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">il bosco accoglie anime tristi</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">e ancora io penso e ti scrivo...</span></b></i></span></span></div>Gujilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494976386454197952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-967981132860680180.post-45218427236776091662024-03-25T06:33:00.001+01:002024-03-25T06:33:09.924+01:00Dente di cane, di Anonimo<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></b></i></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg21qZS0_3R25j7TmCMt7qAE1ofmAinZSb8vAhHK-Nuw2eq8bnZ5Y66veZjiRR_sdOw2FFJkbFoPWizxYMAJPR8FvRfZFzm4boiCtUeZpuuJXt75ichLewetk6ZTrCxtbtO5hf9T16hZ6DOOkhAopMPXqaGbckj1GiND3PVrEXUTEswfW2q34nyHS2aloMM/s1156/Erythronium%20dens-canis%20Marzo24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1156" data-original-width="534" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg21qZS0_3R25j7TmCMt7qAE1ofmAinZSb8vAhHK-Nuw2eq8bnZ5Y66veZjiRR_sdOw2FFJkbFoPWizxYMAJPR8FvRfZFzm4boiCtUeZpuuJXt75ichLewetk6ZTrCxtbtO5hf9T16hZ6DOOkhAopMPXqaGbckj1GiND3PVrEXUTEswfW2q34nyHS2aloMM/w296-h640/Erythronium%20dens-canis%20Marzo24.jpg" width="296" /></a></b></i></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: white; font-size: large;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Dente di cane</span></b></i></span><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></b></i></span></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: white; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Schiva presenza del bosco</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: white; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">rivedo tra tanti fioriti svettare</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: white; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">nell'umida fertile nombra <br /></span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: white; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">un solitario dente di cane.</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: white; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: white; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Bellezza elegante nel verde</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: white; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">di un sottobosco festoso</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: white; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">di primaverili germogli</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: white; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">mi osserva nel mio cammino.</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: white; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: white; font-size: large;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Anonimo </span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: white; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">del XX° Secolo</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: white; font-size: x-small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">poesie ritrovate</span></b></i></span></span><br /></div>Gujilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494976386454197952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-967981132860680180.post-49179107600706440732024-03-24T07:25:00.003+01:002024-03-25T06:33:53.991+01:00A Maurizio Pollini (r.i.p.), di Gujil<p style="text-align: center;"><span><span><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></b></i></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i></i></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV4SdAS7GCMTcXuKaih0b3cb3gYYbDmFxpoKDN6pTM4Naxzxw27ADFZp-sU02hDheXu61miUa72fA1VYoW_vGEqAd9IecBFr0sU5PVjEXsoHrRaF-D0z9-b3EX4o1EuZrRIU8KxOfsxz3sTDUrJW_zbuYDt6nnvZiQLxBPqaQqeLo54EYPmaRF8Yg4yl0N/s300/maurizio_pollini-300x226-3182478908.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="226" data-original-width="300" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV4SdAS7GCMTcXuKaih0b3cb3gYYbDmFxpoKDN6pTM4Naxzxw27ADFZp-sU02hDheXu61miUa72fA1VYoW_vGEqAd9IecBFr0sU5PVjEXsoHrRaF-D0z9-b3EX4o1EuZrRIU8KxOfsxz3sTDUrJW_zbuYDt6nnvZiQLxBPqaQqeLo54EYPmaRF8Yg4yl0N/w640-h482/maurizio_pollini-300x226-3182478908.jpg" width="640" /></a></b>Maurizio</span></span></b></i></span></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Le dita sui tasti a creare</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">silenzi, colori, immagini;</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">di melodie ed assoli</span></b></i></span></span><span style="color: #0a0a0a; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">rimane di te il suono.</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Giovane ascoltavo, sentivo</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">e la musica </span></b></i></span></span><span style="color: #0a0a0a; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">leniva,</span></b></i></span></span><span style="color: #0a0a0a; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">curava</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">il cuore aveva carezze,</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">l'anima vedeva sereno.</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">La tua stazione è giunta</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">in un diminuendo lieve</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">in un pianissimo dolce</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">rimane di te il suono.</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a; font-size: large;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Gujil</span></b></i></span><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a; font-size: small;"><span><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">(a Maurizio Pollini)</span></b></i><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></b></i></span></span></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/JS7KfOyMEIY" width="320" youtube-src-id="JS7KfOyMEIY"></iframe> <br /></div><p></p>Gujilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494976386454197952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-967981132860680180.post-43951177740148821442024-03-23T06:32:00.010+01:002024-03-23T06:32:57.427+01:00Cosa fai?, di Anonimo<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJvKEQQy8r6VqiaPnWpHw83T99sY2anaGiVe70SE5ayzxghcfzH22cJ1rRMPT-NSjBCnfp7EPiCJPtVBnnmw9AZQEb5vdnHAfqayoOorIAYA-hrKJF5uBJnUCxThnSWxe7KIUQbIix_BAZMslR5bIS6RTOEgud_T2VCiPWk2__-DaE90ixSwRk0SL2m2CN/s720/482e859272260b92901a776affd97cd5-701695501.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJvKEQQy8r6VqiaPnWpHw83T99sY2anaGiVe70SE5ayzxghcfzH22cJ1rRMPT-NSjBCnfp7EPiCJPtVBnnmw9AZQEb5vdnHAfqayoOorIAYA-hrKJF5uBJnUCxThnSWxe7KIUQbIix_BAZMslR5bIS6RTOEgud_T2VCiPWk2__-DaE90ixSwRk0SL2m2CN/w640-h640/482e859272260b92901a776affd97cd5-701695501.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></span></span></b></span></span></span></i></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span><span>Cosa fai?</span></span></b></span></span></span></i></span></span><br /></div><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="color: #2b00fe;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Cosa fai?</span></b></i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Nei pensieri avvolgi un senso</span></b></i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">o rilievi perdute cose, andate,</span></b></i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">insiste il cuore sentieri duri</span></b></i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">come pietre spaccate dai denti</span></b></i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">in un turbinare di sogni.</span></b></i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Cosa fai?</span></b></i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Quando preghi in silenzio</span></b></i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">il solitario incedere del dubbio</span></b></i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">poi torni a sorridere a volte</span></b></i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">immergendo ricordi in bicchieri</span></b></i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">che puro cristallo infrangono.<br /></span></b></i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><i><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span> </span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span><i><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span><span>Anonimo</span></span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span><span style="font-size: small;">del XX° Secolo</span></span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span><span style="font-size: x-small;">Poesie ritrovate</span></span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><p> </p>Gujilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494976386454197952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-967981132860680180.post-25299811300855921762024-03-22T06:47:00.003+01:002024-03-22T06:53:24.987+01:00Dove sei? di Anonimo<div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span><span></span></span></b></span></span></span></i></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUQFPlO_rPuVlnM2ES0ZB3UHoYKHZ1_fuqvgGfiJiC-YEuBKtjUmKEzsw54wit98tmnBgkrdgop9EDwlSL979PFEUAgyTJ0eyD_QJqBhYwetMvqBIK-5n2F-6ArastIojx8RRPxEa_wW90GHixopv3MegI1Y-mZddMA5_JA5o1GrB2j2ydCoY5n_GrDOGz/s2000/thumb-2097657529.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1039" data-original-width="2000" height="332" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUQFPlO_rPuVlnM2ES0ZB3UHoYKHZ1_fuqvgGfiJiC-YEuBKtjUmKEzsw54wit98tmnBgkrdgop9EDwlSL979PFEUAgyTJ0eyD_QJqBhYwetMvqBIK-5n2F-6ArastIojx8RRPxEa_wW90GHixopv3MegI1Y-mZddMA5_JA5o1GrB2j2ydCoY5n_GrDOGz/w640-h332/thumb-2097657529.jpg" width="640" /></a><i><b></b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span><span>Dove sei?</span></span></b></span></span></span></i></span></span><br /></div></div><div><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="color: #2b00fe;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Dove sei?<br />In un attimo compari e vai</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i style="color: #2b00fe;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">come i sogni nel sogno</span></b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i style="color: #2b00fe;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">ti fermi per quel niente</span></b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i style="color: #2b00fe;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">ch sei in corsa.</span></b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i style="color: #2b00fe;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Dove stai?</span></b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i style="color: #2b00fe;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Quando chiudo le mani</span></b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i style="color: #2b00fe;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">scivoli come acqua piovana</span></b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i style="color: #2b00fe;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">in strad , nei percorsi alteri</span></b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">dell'anima, della mente.</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></b></i></span></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span> </span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span><i><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span><span>Anonimo</span></span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: small;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span>del XX° Secolo</span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: x-small;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span>Poesie ritrovate</span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> <br /></div></div></div>Gujilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494976386454197952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-967981132860680180.post-85843943425669555032024-03-21T07:31:00.007+01:002024-03-21T07:36:40.027+01:00Nebbia, di Vittorio Sereni<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Nebbia</span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Qui il traffico oscilla<br />sospeso alla luce<br />dei semafori quieti.<br />Io vengo in parte<br />ove s’infolta la città<br />e un fiato d’alti forni la trafuga.<br />Chiedo al cuore una voce, mi sovrasta<br />un assiduo rumore<br />di fabbriche fonde, di magli.</span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">E il tempo piega all’inverno.<br />Io batto le strade<br />che ai giorni delle volpi gentili<br />autunno di feltri verdi fioriva,<br />i viali celesti al dopopioggia.<br />Al segno di luce si libera il passo<br />e indugia l’anno, su queste contrade.</span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">S’illumina a uno svolto un effimero sole,<br />un cespo di mimose<br />nella bianchissima nebbia.</span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Vittorio Sereni</span></b></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span style="color: #38761d;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7woh_y-K7uWEe7RiGc095AEXKWN83cNdlH27pWnlUFfc8RDksjtfvaRJMb1Spj_ewf9-s5qrzxjbwZI2EdPRQCYalqXwjV8_Ay8I2goPwLwdbLDmfbF9yZn8XOzGwB_JxLvb_Ici6DyueHQGzBINYYMnHg47yhUDKvTUeAOqV03O6l71fB5Em0CoPH7rG/s894/105014962-bf38da5e-d161-4bb9-920e-203e2b9ddbff-1243880913.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="602" data-original-width="894" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7woh_y-K7uWEe7RiGc095AEXKWN83cNdlH27pWnlUFfc8RDksjtfvaRJMb1Spj_ewf9-s5qrzxjbwZI2EdPRQCYalqXwjV8_Ay8I2goPwLwdbLDmfbF9yZn8XOzGwB_JxLvb_Ici6DyueHQGzBINYYMnHg47yhUDKvTUeAOqV03O6l71fB5Em0CoPH7rG/w640-h430/105014962-bf38da5e-d161-4bb9-920e-203e2b9ddbff-1243880913.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Primavera alle porte rivedo</span></span></b></i></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span style="color: #38761d;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>la nebbia che offusca la vita;</span></span></b></i></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span style="color: #38761d;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>nel contemplare troppo infinito</span></span></b></i></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span style="color: #38761d;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>s'inciampa a volte col cuore...</span><span><br /></span></span></b></i></span></span></span></span></span></div>Gujilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494976386454197952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-967981132860680180.post-76877861725808006722024-03-20T06:45:00.001+01:002024-03-20T07:12:06.162+01:00Streets Of Heaven, di John Illsley<div class="module__content js-lyrics-module-content" style="text-align: center;"><div aria-label="Song title" class="module__title"><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: verdana;"><span class="module__title__link">Streets Of Heaven</span></b></span></div><div class="module--lyrics__subtitle-box"><div aria-label="Artist"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: verdana;">John Illsley</b></span></div><div aria-label="Artist"><b style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: verdana;"> </b></div></div><div aria-label="Song lyrics"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: verdana;"><b>Streets of heaven are paved with gold <br /> I'm only saying what I've been told <br /> It's up to you think it's true <br /> As for me I don't have a clue <br /> But there's one thing that I'm certain of <br /> There is nothing will change my love<br /><br />Other notions they come and go <br /> Some just sit and let the river flow <br /> Light is fading it's the end of play <br /> As black and white fades to grey <br /> But there is one thing that I'm certain of <br /> There is nothing will change my love<br /><br />Streets of heaven I'd rather be <br /> Streets of heaven for you and me<br /><br />I don't need to climb no hill <br /> It's not w way I get my thrill <br /> Running round to pass the time <br /> I was happy just to make you mine <br /> But there's one thing that I'm certain of <br /> There is nothing will change my love<br /><br />I don't need to climb no hill <br /> It's not w way I get my thrill <br /> Running round to pass the time <br /> I was happy just to make you mine <br /> But there's one thing that I'm certain of <br /> There is nothing will change my love</b></span></div><div aria-label="Song lyrics"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: verdana;"><b> </b></span></div><div aria-label="Song lyrics"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgythX1ZJ1OLryWUYpuM-2bqe812KB3y6vz9mnaOyYy36xEdHyuARzH0tRkwtrv7A7yZGgxA_ANvG55qarqRzXJ3eQkpepKeDspyQNRPvXzJ51OMRTAQQK_sBFbrPs0MAS4mvupIJ8mXoPBXYw3Cplv5IdX4yTJ6c2heQwnwFkntYKmIdaeGyzxwfU8RorY/s480/hqdefault-3183905767.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgythX1ZJ1OLryWUYpuM-2bqe812KB3y6vz9mnaOyYy36xEdHyuARzH0tRkwtrv7A7yZGgxA_ANvG55qarqRzXJ3eQkpepKeDspyQNRPvXzJ51OMRTAQQK_sBFbrPs0MAS4mvupIJ8mXoPBXYw3Cplv5IdX4yTJ6c2heQwnwFkntYKmIdaeGyzxwfU8RorY/w640-h480/hqdefault-3183905767.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: verdana;"><b> </b></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span style="color: #38761d;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>Strade, percorsi, vie precluse</span></span></b></i></span></span></span><span><span><span style="color: #38761d;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span> </span></span></b></i></span></span></span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span style="color: #38761d;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>si annaspa alla ricerca di vie sicure;</span></span></b></i></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span style="color: #38761d;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>nel sogno tutto è diverso,</span></span></b></i></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span style="color: #38761d;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>il viaggio continua...</span></span></b></i></span></span></span><b style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: verdana;"><br /></b></span></div>Gujilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494976386454197952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-967981132860680180.post-21577969916890918992024-03-19T07:10:00.005+01:002024-03-19T07:31:40.418+01:00Papà, di Gujil<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span style="color: #38761d;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7FM6D64QTYG-LkKb7JNuV7ewsMNaFHStgfk64sOiIM3bmIs7QSqGs1kXObZUdaKbiEQxluqUSsryNFf0YsykfkrMNysDAS8xHac8t_tNRMaSPexMo7gRy9rW3u8brLZ0TLaKf-ZEL7fd3OpAcGarb4g-okftundHfLZXq74MUNbVZcPgyKVfDr3wVMzEq/s700/PhotoFunia-1710828497.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="467" height="695" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7FM6D64QTYG-LkKb7JNuV7ewsMNaFHStgfk64sOiIM3bmIs7QSqGs1kXObZUdaKbiEQxluqUSsryNFf0YsykfkrMNysDAS8xHac8t_tNRMaSPexMo7gRy9rW3u8brLZ0TLaKf-ZEL7fd3OpAcGarb4g-okftundHfLZXq74MUNbVZcPgyKVfDr3wVMzEq/w463-h695/PhotoFunia-1710828497.jpg" width="463" /></a></div></span></b></i></span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span><span style="color: #38761d;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span> </span></span></b></i></span><span><span style="color: #38761d;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>Ovunque tu sia, Papà, ora guarda</span></span></b></i></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span><span><span style="color: #38761d;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>questo amore che resta, che torna;</span></span></b></i></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span><span><span style="color: #38761d;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>linfa vitale, colori del senso di vita</span></span></b></i></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span><span style="color: #38761d;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>che tu mi hai mostrato, vivendo..</span></span></b></i></span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span><span style="color: #38761d;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>.</span></span></b></i></span></span></span></div>Gujilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494976386454197952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-967981132860680180.post-92132352545076071962024-03-18T06:52:00.006+01:002024-03-18T06:53:32.678+01:00Che allegria piena.., (31) di Publio Valerio Catullo<p style="text-align: center;"><b style="color: #2b00fe;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> 31</span></span></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Che allegria piena, distesa, Sirmione,<br />rivederti piú bella di tutte le isole e penisole<br />che Nettuno solleva sulle acque diverse<br />dei laghi trasparenti o del mare immenso.<br />Quasi non credo d'essere lontano dalla Tinia,<br />dalle terre bitinie e guardarti sereno.<br />Vi è felicità piú grande che scordare gli affanni,<br />quando, stremati da viaggi in terra straniera,<br />la mente si libera del proprio peso e a casa<br />si torna per riposare nel letto sospirato?<br />Di tutte le fatiche questo è l'unico premio.<br />Sirmione, bellissima mia, rallegrati<br />e rallegratevi anche voi onde lidie del lago:<br />risuonino nella casa solo grida di gioia.</span></span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Publio Valerio Catullo</span></b></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_VTia3ZqXUwPrSGJ5ib9Z6_mi22p06JdzErFo0wjMeAKVJ7q-uTw6l7OmbX63XMSjC5YIx_tlOWDB_GouXS4ZbvzkTQ8jVZjw39YK3foqVK1oiYZwfM0CiTnQaTbs45x3TPKidZqMCJm8Wq4TexYH0fig-d2U1Tk0c6Y5hYXO2zN2SGm4BESCP5nezD2F/s1800/orte_sirmione_adobestock_172482241-1399648600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1800" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_VTia3ZqXUwPrSGJ5ib9Z6_mi22p06JdzErFo0wjMeAKVJ7q-uTw6l7OmbX63XMSjC5YIx_tlOWDB_GouXS4ZbvzkTQ8jVZjw39YK3foqVK1oiYZwfM0CiTnQaTbs45x3TPKidZqMCJm8Wq4TexYH0fig-d2U1Tk0c6Y5hYXO2zN2SGm4BESCP5nezD2F/w640-h426/orte_sirmione_adobestock_172482241-1399648600.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span style="color: #38761d;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>Nei luoghi amati risuonano</span></span></b></i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span style="color: #38761d;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>ricordi amorevoli e cari;</span></span></b></i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span style="color: #38761d;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>le placide acque, le rive,</span></span></b></i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span style="color: #38761d;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>i monti e sorrisi lontani...</span><span><br /></span></span></b></i></span></span></span></div><p style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></span></b></p>Gujilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494976386454197952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-967981132860680180.post-73267880735421633562024-03-17T08:01:00.006+01:002024-03-17T08:01:58.954+01:00Presso una certosa, di Giosuè Carducci<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Presso una certosa</span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Da quel verde, mestamente pertinace tra le foglie<br />Gialle e rosse de l’acacia, senza vento una si toglie:<br />E con fremito leggero<br />Par che passi un’anima.</span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Velo argenteo par la nebbia su ’l ruscello che gorgoglia,<br />Tra la nebbia ne ’l ruscello cade a perdersi la foglia.<br />Che sospira il cimitero,<br />Da’ cipressi, fievole?</span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Improvviso rompe il sole sopra l’umido mattino,<br />Navigando tra le bianche nubi l’aere azzurrino:<br />Si rallegra il bosco austero<br />Già de ’l verno prèsago.</span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">A me, prima che l’inverno stringa pur l’anima mia<br />Il tuo riso, o sacra luce, o divina poesia!<br />Il tuo canto, o padre Omero,<br />Pria che l’ombra avvolgami!</span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Giosuè Carducci</span></b></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #38761d;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOAbZHwHOiITyopD8RGPCw2K5WbAdw4UxBlA8q5KQulO02IwEQVcnmzDBNTQIHNvsNgqO07tw7qvMg2EOx66mPIiL0D1cHSyPptI066cnhknjJLF_lggtGEm0TcmEzjhQvjKNGNHEINSpk7CrGgaKKbFGL5Sqxe7zr2mKF8j7WFvN6Vvx83E7ps_SMpu81/s960/Certosa-San-Martino-733755132.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="848" data-original-width="960" height="566" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOAbZHwHOiITyopD8RGPCw2K5WbAdw4UxBlA8q5KQulO02IwEQVcnmzDBNTQIHNvsNgqO07tw7qvMg2EOx66mPIiL0D1cHSyPptI066cnhknjJLF_lggtGEm0TcmEzjhQvjKNGNHEINSpk7CrGgaKKbFGL5Sqxe7zr2mKF8j7WFvN6Vvx83E7ps_SMpu81/w640-h566/Certosa-San-Martino-733755132.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>In un sensazionale attim di voce</span></span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #38761d;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>risento i canti degli amici andati;</span></span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #38761d;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>un eremo di silenzi e preghiera</span></span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #38761d;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>al cuore come scelta possibile...</span></span></b></i></span></span></div>Gujilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494976386454197952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-967981132860680180.post-41523560574120399832024-03-16T07:37:00.004+01:002024-03-17T08:02:10.831+01:00Detto antico, di Arturo Graf<p style="text-align: center;"><b style="color: #2b00fe;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Detto antico</span></span></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Per la mente mi va quel detto antico,<br />Che a me par dolce e a’ miei colleghi amaro:<br />Quello (non so se ben io lo ridico):<br />Muor giovane colui che ai numi è caro.</span></span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Detto pien di gajezza e di speranza!<br />E più sensato com’io più lo spremo!<br />Detto d’amore!... Ahimè, che ai numi io temo<br />Di non essere ormai caro abbastanza.</span></span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="color: #2b00fe;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Arturo Graf</span></b></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjizjsgzbPIa9QuY6hrzDdb5xddRqSZqBIhdPxkjODjFlLblLm1070wMK7zA_e24Z6dzjpa2n3NP0JFCQvTBngb7NPusuAhvLW4nBm3Z5PAK0i8-WKPlt6NhNyPJpiISP-4iodRbSigug2_HRiO0KgJOWwPZYguM8AIa822UHk3rQyeptjaBLSB9mP2TlFX/s1200/z35aboip4cwoxemtn3ut-879680605.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="1200" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjizjsgzbPIa9QuY6hrzDdb5xddRqSZqBIhdPxkjODjFlLblLm1070wMK7zA_e24Z6dzjpa2n3NP0JFCQvTBngb7NPusuAhvLW4nBm3Z5PAK0i8-WKPlt6NhNyPJpiISP-4iodRbSigug2_HRiO0KgJOWwPZYguM8AIa822UHk3rQyeptjaBLSB9mP2TlFX/w640-h336/z35aboip4cwoxemtn3ut-879680605.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Scolpito nella mente, nel cuore</span></span></b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>io sono rugiada nella mano;</span></span></b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>la mente ripensa, vede, tocca</span></span></b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>l'anima perduta ancora vaga...</span></span></b></i><i><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><br /></span></span></b></i></span></div>Gujilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494976386454197952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-967981132860680180.post-91543652556591459812024-03-15T07:09:00.008+01:002024-03-15T07:09:45.863+01:00Attesa, di Anonimo<div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixpsMDFapXU5boeeUqOJBYPbBK7-Fly5E-ayTrrOK77kqsOL_qTGazL6BjWgbqX5c9iBVvzXdbYDn_JBQJIidb8-wkE6HhaIxxeOa48P23wZsyio5pKL52-YpymfS8oYpUlgl3fsZSyCsaZBRl95RWlrx2LjrfHsQbQ9RiObHcNdnJ7y04C-SpvniYFA86/s1192/attesa-5c6d00e4-1937-4a8b-a516-dd0afcfdc7d3-2990605504.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1192" height="580" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixpsMDFapXU5boeeUqOJBYPbBK7-Fly5E-ayTrrOK77kqsOL_qTGazL6BjWgbqX5c9iBVvzXdbYDn_JBQJIidb8-wkE6HhaIxxeOa48P23wZsyio5pKL52-YpymfS8oYpUlgl3fsZSyCsaZBRl95RWlrx2LjrfHsQbQ9RiObHcNdnJ7y04C-SpvniYFA86/w640-h580/attesa-5c6d00e4-1937-4a8b-a516-dd0afcfdc7d3-2990605504.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span><span>Attese</span></span></b></span></span></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="color: #4c1130;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="color: #4c1130;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ho scritto le attese almeno</span></span></b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="color: #4c1130;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: small;">un milione di volte sui fogli,</span></span></b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="color: #4c1130;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: small;">ho giocato le ore, i momenti</span></span></b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="color: #4c1130;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: small;">come fossero cose distanti.</span></span></b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="color: #4c1130;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: small;">Nel fillo concreto del dubbio,</span></span></b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="color: #4c1130;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: small;">nell'immenso sostenere certezze</span></span></b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="color: #4c1130;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: small;">ripongo ora sguardo impreciso</span></span></b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="color: #4c1130;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: small;">ed aspetto che il sonno lenisca. </span></span></b></i><span style="color: #4c1130;"><br /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span> </span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c1130;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span><span style="font-size: large;">Anonimo</span></span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-size: small;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span>del XX° Secolo</span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-size: x-small;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span>Poesie ritrovate</span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> <br /></div></div>Gujilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494976386454197952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-967981132860680180.post-16832128889392760082024-03-14T06:54:00.005+01:002024-03-14T07:08:40.987+01:00Mistero, di Corrado Govoni<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="color: #ffa400;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Mistero</span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #ffa400;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">O farfallina nata con l'aurora,<br />o destinata a sparire fra un'ora<br />come i fiori, che vivon cosi brevemente<br />che si può dire<br />si schiudono soltanto per morire ;<br />grano di stella, palpito di luce ;<br />ti crea l'uragano che travolge e romba,<br />o una goccia di pioggia ti produce?<br />Tu, forse, sai perchè sì nasce, si ama e muore,<br />tu che hai la culla, il letto e la tua tomba<br />nel profumato calice d'un fiore.</span></b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="color: #ffa400;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Corrado Govoni<span><span><span><span><span><i> </i></span></span></span></span></span></span></b></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><i><b><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIrNGJO3TwVY8RpHHQgvECZwtkBTnIlSRVJ0j4dR3GoCLBAsRskTSxS6obqZR1cVmOgviCa_jW37IalLnStP0EXT0TvIUYtyTr_sAAKka6TF9Q7m_r0t8hDQX5cZGzthW8ndK58kOR5_G_JrboIYqR-vgN0RhnpJ3N3P3eyr9-AWy2MEGS3lPUihetOEez/s2400/2945525_l-3818353992.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1350" data-original-width="2400" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIrNGJO3TwVY8RpHHQgvECZwtkBTnIlSRVJ0j4dR3GoCLBAsRskTSxS6obqZR1cVmOgviCa_jW37IalLnStP0EXT0TvIUYtyTr_sAAKka6TF9Q7m_r0t8hDQX5cZGzthW8ndK58kOR5_G_JrboIYqR-vgN0RhnpJ3N3P3eyr9-AWy2MEGS3lPUihetOEez/w640-h360/2945525_l-3818353992.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Poeticamente assurdo mi pena</span></b></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><i><b><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;">nel cor un afflato di mistero;</span></b></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><i><b><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;">sentirsi quando il tempo incalza</span></b></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><i><b><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;">rincorrendo un passato lontano...</span><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></b></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>Gujilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494976386454197952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-967981132860680180.post-48524836873730672052024-03-13T06:53:00.004+01:002024-03-13T06:53:26.848+01:00Il filo, di Guido Gozzano<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="color: #800180;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Il filo</span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #800180;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Ma questo filo... tutto questo filo!...<br />In pensieri non dolci e non amari<br />il Vecchio stava chino sulli alari<br />con le molle, così, come uno stilo.</span></b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #800180;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">«Scrivi? Bruci? Miei versi? I sillabari?<br />Il nome dell'Amata e dell'Asilo!»<br />(nel Vecchio riconobbi il mio profilo)<br />«Lettere? Buste? Annunzi funerari?</span></b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #800180;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Un nome, un nome! Quello della Mamma!»<br />E caddi singhiozzando sulli alari.<br />Il Vecchio tacque. M'additò la fiamma.</span></b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #800180;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">«Da trent'anni?! Perdute le più tenere<br />mani! Ma resta il sogno! I sogni cari...»<br />Il Vecchio tacque. M'additò la cenere. </span></b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="color: #800180;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Guido Gozzano</span></b></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><i><b><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgomr33PYqobSrQsv2uMa2er6oOqybn9xxxM96gO-huqHlTk-AXAFn7JavK2TDHUZ15vgnuxZX5Quvn6s2XNisi1-De9sltsV4a2iOzQoSxCA5J9ZpJA48c81fW_pci7DnQV_qRoql6qWCCAdx0l2Bgv4NRwSWFB54bZiKgXQoToyZD1h4PCNqXjZg7No4h/s660/113033561-bd713c8d-ddee-4ae9-9b08-5901e80082fb-199532349.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="660" data-original-width="459" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgomr33PYqobSrQsv2uMa2er6oOqybn9xxxM96gO-huqHlTk-AXAFn7JavK2TDHUZ15vgnuxZX5Quvn6s2XNisi1-De9sltsV4a2iOzQoSxCA5J9ZpJA48c81fW_pci7DnQV_qRoql6qWCCAdx0l2Bgv4NRwSWFB54bZiKgXQoToyZD1h4PCNqXjZg7No4h/w446-h640/113033561-bd713c8d-ddee-4ae9-9b08-5901e80082fb-199532349.jpg" width="446" /></a></div>Nel ricordo i sogni appaiono</span></b></i></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><i><b><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;">forti di tinte sicure e i toni</span></b></i></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><i><b><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;">inclinano i pensieri remoti;</span></b></i></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><i><b><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;">animali d'affetto, lo ridico...</span><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></b></i></span></span></span></span></span></div>Gujilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494976386454197952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-967981132860680180.post-18315573196766481702024-03-11T06:41:00.003+01:002024-03-11T06:56:33.104+01:00La donna che preferisco (57), di Marziale<p style="text-align: center;"><b style="color: red;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> La donna che preferisco (57)<br /></span></span></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Tu mi domandi, o Flacco,<br />quale tipo di donna<br />vorrei per me e quale non vorrei?<br />Non troppo compiacente la vorrei<br />e non troppo scontrosa.<br />Le qualità intermedie preferisco:<br />che non mi stia lì a tormentare<br />e non mi sazi subito di sè</span></span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Marziale</span></b></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><i><b><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;"></span></b></i></span></span></span></span></p><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><i><b><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEfdk151VroH4_ZFRAh6FJxiY0ke0HdxC6vsjAld-xhsm9yU6hk4JvcC5bGELc1ZcrG2FkvqfLhwr8pM8-qGm4Uy5IocmGHFEsPRxWw2GnaQufkrCQhydba3HJtc8E0V2NsRrPn2efOj-bcSXd3tsCJY43FERXeRYe0UKs7CCOee9Z4rolx3WkpDj6uBlz/s2118/8ixKKAE8T-708911321.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2118" data-original-width="2118" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEfdk151VroH4_ZFRAh6FJxiY0ke0HdxC6vsjAld-xhsm9yU6hk4JvcC5bGELc1ZcrG2FkvqfLhwr8pM8-qGm4Uy5IocmGHFEsPRxWw2GnaQufkrCQhydba3HJtc8E0V2NsRrPn2efOj-bcSXd3tsCJY43FERXeRYe0UKs7CCOee9Z4rolx3WkpDj6uBlz/w640-h640/8ixKKAE8T-708911321.png" width="640" /></a></div>In un mercanteggiare assurdo</span></b></i></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><i><b><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;">uomini compravano donne;</span></b></i></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><i><b><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;">ancora oggi avviene e nel cuore</span></b></i></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><i><b><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;">il deserto dilaga e sovrasta...</span><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></b></i></span></span></span></span></div>Gujilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494976386454197952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-967981132860680180.post-54035226715393743212024-03-10T06:49:00.006+01:002024-03-11T06:41:37.474+01:00Tre giovani fiorentine camminano, di Dino Campana<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: large;"><b style="font-family: verdana;">Tre giovani fiorentine camminano</b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>Ondulava sul passo verginale<br />Ondulava la chioma musicale<br />Nello splendore del tiepido sole<br />Eran tre vergini e una grazia sola<br />Ondulava sul passo verginale<br />Crespa e nera la chioma musicale<br />Eran tre vergini e una grazia sola<br />E sei piedini in marcia militare.</b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: large;"><b style="font-family: verdana;">Dino Campana</b></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><i><b><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4gI91WUflYtVDfG8WNYnoAu_Db5CeBVzjE9sGVdauFIAt7sDA3sxxnWEswasl8t6OkVNjE8manoKAle6O-CL9y_OqBcgYGoLMOfsAceQCOr0PiEuY6MM-q4zPTKM6QDlc5glVtD5ZOMtU2pt0hHLXQdutzboULfC2Tay76vtidY-W3hRWzopJmp1E8PJI/s800/strade-di-firenze-italia-ore-serali-165934051-4133784419.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="532" data-original-width="800" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4gI91WUflYtVDfG8WNYnoAu_Db5CeBVzjE9sGVdauFIAt7sDA3sxxnWEswasl8t6OkVNjE8manoKAle6O-CL9y_OqBcgYGoLMOfsAceQCOr0PiEuY6MM-q4zPTKM6QDlc5glVtD5ZOMtU2pt0hHLXQdutzboULfC2Tay76vtidY-W3hRWzopJmp1E8PJI/w640-h426/strade-di-firenze-italia-ore-serali-165934051-4133784419.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Nei passi schivi, frettolosi e lievi</span></b></i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><i><b><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;">incombe peso l'ostacolo del cuore;</span></b></i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><i><b><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;">volti artefatti dal sogno inclinano</span></b></i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><i><b><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;">versi, poeta strappato al reale...</span><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></b></i></span></span></span></div>Gujilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494976386454197952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-967981132860680180.post-65028191449118976182024-03-09T07:32:00.008+01:002024-03-09T07:38:05.517+01:00Creta indocile, di Amalia Guglielminetti<p style="text-align: center;"><b style="color: #7f6000;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Creta indocile</span></span></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #7f6000;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Mi foggiò la natura in una creta<br />indocile, e la vita non mi vide<br />materia inerte fra sue mani infide,<br />del suo pollice al solco mansueta.</span></span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #7f6000;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Perchè la vita sembra un fine esteta<br />cui una strana fantasia sorride:<br />ora l'opera plasma, liscia, incide;<br />contr'essa or s'accanisce, ed or s'acqueta.</span></span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #7f6000;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Buona sorte ha per sè chi, ammasso informe,<br />a' suoi bizzarri spiriti s'adatta,<br />sopporta oppresso ed obliato dorme.,</span></span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #7f6000;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Folle chi i nervi a più sentire affina,<br />vigila, freme, ad ogni colpo scatta<br />ed inerme a difendersi s'ostina.</span></span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="color: #7f6000;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Amalia Guglielminetti</span></b></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><i><b><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk1VK_o4cqAZoXSlJ12t9EzD-yGGeIM3UjmhD04PHlONXmb-SLO3hXlfsnVLgFmnNkVy53icITaP2nfcBwGiUCIbetpYda0Ixom18IF_bYYEMdBPhGw2jjvVZ4lWtWFETdZr1K-6VMredtU2e66vsWi55MQGmpdTrfy7nenk8R6lF-Vtcz7yhwsIvmSE8m/s650/lavorare-la-creta-2-686425556.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="566" data-original-width="650" height="558" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk1VK_o4cqAZoXSlJ12t9EzD-yGGeIM3UjmhD04PHlONXmb-SLO3hXlfsnVLgFmnNkVy53icITaP2nfcBwGiUCIbetpYda0Ixom18IF_bYYEMdBPhGw2jjvVZ4lWtWFETdZr1K-6VMredtU2e66vsWi55MQGmpdTrfy7nenk8R6lF-Vtcz7yhwsIvmSE8m/w640-h558/lavorare-la-creta-2-686425556.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Plasmati da mano incerta i sensi</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><i><b><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;">scompaiono ai cuori sottile e tesi;</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><i><b><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;">rimane incerto un ardire innocuo</span></b></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><i><b><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;">che staglia come eretto simbolo...</span></b></i></span></span></div>Gujilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494976386454197952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-967981132860680180.post-20063839428854632712024-03-08T07:47:00.006+01:002024-03-08T07:50:43.158+01:00Inno alla donna, di Alda Merini<div style="text-align: center;"><blockquote><p><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="color: #cc0000; font-family: verdana;">Inno alla donna</b></span></p></blockquote><blockquote><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: verdana;"><b>“Stupenda<br />
immacolata fortuna<br />
per te tutte le creature<br />
del regno<br />
si sono aperte<br />
e tu sei diventata la regina<br />
delle nostre ombre</b></span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: verdana;"><b>per te gli uomini<br />
hanno preso<br />
innumerevoli voli<br />
creato l’alveare del<br />
pensiero</b></span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: verdana;"><b>per te donna è sorto<br />
il mormorio dell’acqua<br />
unica grazia<br />
e tremi per i tuoi incantesimi<br />
che sono nelle tue mani</b></span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: verdana;"><b>e tu hai un sogno<br />
per ogni estate<br />
un figlio per ogni pianto<br />
un sospetto d’amore<br />
per ogni capello</b></span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: verdana;"><b>ora sei donna<br />
tutto un perdono<br />
e così come ti abita<br />
il pensiero divino<br />
fiorirà in segreto<br />
attorniato<br />dalla tua grazia”.</b></span><b style="color: #cc0000; font-family: verdana;"> <br /></b></span></p></blockquote></div><div style="text-align: center;"><blockquote><p><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="color: #cc0000; font-family: verdana;">Alda Merini</b></span></p></blockquote><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i style="color: #38761d;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2XKUmkX3L5LNTKcbskUBbUSjhdIrZ-OzEa3SqswFAZZAyL8BBpU4eUVO9a-mDXFU9np2FuRXzHNoCLIa9i6KvPqU8EjT-DE1WkHSaX0E7jEnVfmR_v9lYgu_yHGhBLAxUCZZkBUydGOihM0-HvO4ipy3uZpsxwshyphenhyphenxvxYBxxlF56KiFiMz3sIqmkThExL/s900/mazzo-di-mimose-fiore-per-i-wi-di-giornata-internazionale-della-donna-67867299-3618815190.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="582" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2XKUmkX3L5LNTKcbskUBbUSjhdIrZ-OzEa3SqswFAZZAyL8BBpU4eUVO9a-mDXFU9np2FuRXzHNoCLIa9i6KvPqU8EjT-DE1WkHSaX0E7jEnVfmR_v9lYgu_yHGhBLAxUCZZkBUydGOihM0-HvO4ipy3uZpsxwshyphenhyphenxvxYBxxlF56KiFiMz3sIqmkThExL/w414-h640/mazzo-di-mimose-fiore-per-i-wi-di-giornata-internazionale-della-donna-67867299-3618815190.jpg" width="414" /></a></div>Perduto sogno nel mondo reale</span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i style="color: #38761d;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span>donne come visioni e inizi;</span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i style="color: #38761d;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span>i corpi incedono alteri al passo</span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i style="color: #38761d;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span>perduti amanti ormai lontani...</span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div></div>Gujilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494976386454197952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-967981132860680180.post-63997018169880940572024-03-07T06:32:00.000+01:002024-03-07T06:32:01.645+01:00Terre rosse, di Vittorio Sereni<p style="text-align: center;"><b style="color: #990000; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Terre rosse</span></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: verdana;"><b>Il tuono spazia un rumore<br />di cavalli lanciati sui monti;<br />sui muri degli orti<br />tempo d’acqua che torna,<br />randagio.<br />Il sonno intorba i pagliai,<br />il silenzio cresce nel petto.</b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: verdana;"><b>Dopo lo scroscio la terra è rossa,<br />nei dorsi di rupe<br />il sasso si stria.<br />E il fango è un tramonto<br />che tutto l’anno ci dura negli occhi.</b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="color: #990000; font-family: verdana;">Vittorio Sereni</b></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicUdk4NiW5GnOzliI3aTAs9v96G6Mh0A-pwixsc2K6iMqvAiRkYdwfJnz9ICzOdHRJPsSGNPLAj9FeUZBddHADL2a0wLaBbF_2H4h5nNhzRVjgkJSKKy642B5qRuSWa6-1My7jxo7FQYT0yaCM3Raty3DYlgbmUI_AktVZYghKSrCNmkaZlo7LIIwY9MW6/s800/giacimenti-sommersi-dell-argilla-dopo-pioggia-torrenziale-96453449-1907737488.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="534" data-original-width="800" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicUdk4NiW5GnOzliI3aTAs9v96G6Mh0A-pwixsc2K6iMqvAiRkYdwfJnz9ICzOdHRJPsSGNPLAj9FeUZBddHADL2a0wLaBbF_2H4h5nNhzRVjgkJSKKy642B5qRuSWa6-1My7jxo7FQYT0yaCM3Raty3DYlgbmUI_AktVZYghKSrCNmkaZlo7LIIwY9MW6/w640-h428/giacimenti-sommersi-dell-argilla-dopo-pioggia-torrenziale-96453449-1907737488.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;">Le piogge dilavano sensi</span></b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;">perduti in percorsi fangosi;</span></b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;">impantanato nel nulla riprovo</span></b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;">a scuotere il petto di tosse...</span></b></i></span><br /></div>Gujilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494976386454197952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-967981132860680180.post-54419816478984252882024-03-06T06:52:00.006+01:002024-03-06T06:56:45.964+01:00Protocollo cittadino #114 (Adesso), di Gujil<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #274e13; font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>Adesso</i></span></b></span></div><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #274e13; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span>Adesso, ora che scrivo poco</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #274e13; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span>mi sento compresso in un sol</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #274e13; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span>attimo di smarrimento totale;</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #274e13; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span>la via del pensiero è preclusa..?</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #274e13; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #274e13; font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span>Gujil</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></b></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrR3gsGSN_eXPPc_Rel0cozIhzELVVvFTgyMxLzGJoQLIfWmyFOXhyU2NbeMNxtNRTPLMNp4pBfL0KZCqdONnYPyHNXmLZ_rkAleQmvpJ61YBVz4w3GWO0_ZcJJhm3VyJ9iiSfN0s76QNsvYISuLeHcQi9K8w98-Z8tQ7WtzZc9gJW3uTksdwWIRUNMP6c/s1217/DS-4715_logo_update_Adesso_flex-1269292252.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="411" data-original-width="1217" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrR3gsGSN_eXPPc_Rel0cozIhzELVVvFTgyMxLzGJoQLIfWmyFOXhyU2NbeMNxtNRTPLMNp4pBfL0KZCqdONnYPyHNXmLZ_rkAleQmvpJ61YBVz4w3GWO0_ZcJJhm3VyJ9iiSfN0s76QNsvYISuLeHcQi9K8w98-Z8tQ7WtzZc9gJW3uTksdwWIRUNMP6c/w640-h216/DS-4715_logo_update_Adesso_flex-1269292252.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><p><br /></p><div class="simple-translate-system-theme" id="simple-translate"><div><div class="simple-translate-button isShow" style="background-image: url("moz-extension://d5c46d16-0806-4f73-9dc0-7ad96d346c3c/icons/512.png"); height: 22px; left: 429px; top: 170px; width: 22px;"></div><div class="simple-translate-panel " style="font-size: 13px; height: 200px; left: 0px; top: 0px; width: 300px;"><div class="simple-translate-result-wrapper" style="overflow: hidden;"><div class="simple-translate-move" draggable="true"></div><div class="simple-translate-result-contents"><p class="simple-translate-result" dir="auto"></p><p class="simple-translate-candidate" dir="auto"></p></div></div></div></div></div>Gujilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494976386454197952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-967981132860680180.post-85670110997544428112024-03-05T07:48:00.008+01:002024-03-05T07:49:00.816+01:00Ragazzo.., (27) di Publio Valerio Catullo<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="color: #800180; font-family: verdana;">27</b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #800180; font-family: verdana;"><b>Ragazzo, se versi un vino vecchio<br />riempine i calici del piú amaro,<br />come vuole Postumia, la nostra regina<br />ubriaca piú di un acino ubriaco.<br />E l'acqua se ne vada dove le pare<br />a rovinare il vino, lontano,<br />fra gli astemi: questo è vino puro.</b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="color: #800180; font-family: verdana;">Publio Valerio Catullo</b></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i style="color: #38761d;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNL9HH9hpfG99aUchFbxEClAjJQiYjkE7qudBXOyhxude9FoQsgV8SHlZmdXO389TN7Rrs2aoBWA1vAd-L-lnv19UqtgBPea6vzQIDyY77IQlX6aYfyO2j9MZ3uLKyzRpmfVge_3yATKUaEC7E3od8-zMOts0VMHWZSBZ-SpUO7-ToDHw6Lj4RKiN_PQEs/s1023/depositphotos_5190377-stock-photo-two-ancient-wine-cup-3114569036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="685" data-original-width="1023" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNL9HH9hpfG99aUchFbxEClAjJQiYjkE7qudBXOyhxude9FoQsgV8SHlZmdXO389TN7Rrs2aoBWA1vAd-L-lnv19UqtgBPea6vzQIDyY77IQlX6aYfyO2j9MZ3uLKyzRpmfVge_3yATKUaEC7E3od8-zMOts0VMHWZSBZ-SpUO7-ToDHw6Lj4RKiN_PQEs/w640-h428/depositphotos_5190377-stock-photo-two-ancient-wine-cup-3114569036.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Alcoliche notti passate</span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i style="color: #38761d;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span>a pensare, ricordi, presente;</span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i style="color: #38761d;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span>nel vino un sincero dono</span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i style="color: #38761d;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span>di vera e ambiziosa voluttà...</span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>Gujilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494976386454197952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-967981132860680180.post-34516894220886234852024-03-04T06:27:00.002+01:002024-03-04T06:27:40.750+01:00Per musica, di Sergio Corazzini<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Per musica</span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: red;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Tu m’hai scritto cosí: «Or che spezzato<br />è questo nostro amor fatto di ebbrezze,<br />io ti rimando i baci che m’hai dato<br />io ti rimando tutte le carezze».</span></b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: red;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">Piccola bimba mia sempre malata, <br />una cosa ti sei dimenticata.</span></b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: red;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">La prima cosa che ti ho data, o amore,<br />ti sei scordata di ridarmi il cuore!</span></b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Sergio Corazzini</span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV6Y-xiT4VMFoKgntzAaVAXbzBRxZs20AO0PXRQ8qWwlJROQI4GamqtqI4rYo0-JMUjk02ukMgHKfKP5dD82RmuGzFi4zbWA0aAaELdVRYyesmwbDIHHt1m-1e1JhKlNQ6lEBteQH6uhvXEdEW6YJ8m-5-69UUSpZTqSXNSb8nXevAnGKp3Qgr1HIM1Q4Y/s760/tatuaggio-polso-amanti-musica-piccolo-cuore-chiave-violino-tastiera-pianoforte-e1516726022681-3536730939.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="760" data-original-width="760" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV6Y-xiT4VMFoKgntzAaVAXbzBRxZs20AO0PXRQ8qWwlJROQI4GamqtqI4rYo0-JMUjk02ukMgHKfKP5dD82RmuGzFi4zbWA0aAaELdVRYyesmwbDIHHt1m-1e1JhKlNQ6lEBteQH6uhvXEdEW6YJ8m-5-69UUSpZTqSXNSb8nXevAnGKp3Qgr1HIM1Q4Y/w640-h640/tatuaggio-polso-amanti-musica-piccolo-cuore-chiave-violino-tastiera-pianoforte-e1516726022681-3536730939.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></b></span></div><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i style="color: #38761d;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span>Lentamente rappreso il cuore </span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i style="color: #38761d;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span>batte insistente le tante ore</span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i style="color: #38761d;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span>passate a pensare immagini</span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i style="color: #38761d;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span><span><b><span>che vaghe danzano l'anima...</span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>Gujilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494976386454197952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-967981132860680180.post-91086465190411594512024-03-03T08:02:00.005+01:002024-03-03T08:17:45.620+01:00La feluca, di Arturo Graf<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #7f6000; font-size: large;"><b style="font-family: verdana;"> La feluca</b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #7f6000; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>Nubi accese, color di rubino,<br />Passan lente nel cielo turchino;<br />Sopra l’onda, che d’ostro si fuca,<br />Passa lenta una negra feluca.</b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #7f6000; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>Una voce soave e sonora,<br />Che minaccia, che piange, che implora<br />Penetrata d’un intimo ardor,</b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #7f6000; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>Al singulto di mesta chitarra<br />Sale, scende, s’infrange, — rinarra<br />Una storia bizzarra d’amor.</b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #7f6000; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>Via pel ciel che s’infosca più lente<br />Van vogando le nuvole spente;<br />Sovra il mar, che di bujo s’ingombra,<br />La feluca dilegua nell’ombra.</b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #7f6000; font-size: large;"><b style="font-family: verdana;">Arturo Graf</b></span></p><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><b style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><b style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm4AQQFoZMaN0btDInGn-pVmbFZ8MTZ6v3biUJZdrjiXGFwgZGvn2VmAt2-6cKqXAPCkse0XpK-8bN88L2nvnhQtEBALfseBGSSnio5i06fDHSSf-O7sA930D0KsleeLrNIFuEfBB8Aw4geq8QvLvFsBfQykbqWkxE0OfXjCZQxb91VaqC7RT9dv3utDUO/s1200/egyptian-felucca-ride-1124650774.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="883" data-original-width="1200" height="470" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm4AQQFoZMaN0btDInGn-pVmbFZ8MTZ6v3biUJZdrjiXGFwgZGvn2VmAt2-6cKqXAPCkse0XpK-8bN88L2nvnhQtEBALfseBGSSnio5i06fDHSSf-O7sA930D0KsleeLrNIFuEfBB8Aw4geq8QvLvFsBfQykbqWkxE0OfXjCZQxb91VaqC7RT9dv3utDUO/w640-h470/egyptian-felucca-ride-1124650774.jpg" width="640" /></a></b>Natanti nella mia vita i visi</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><b style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span>di amori sfiorati o vissuti;</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><b style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span>rimane il senso (e perdura)<br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><b style="color: #38761d; font-family: verdana;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><i><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span>del navigare a meta indecisa...</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>Gujilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07494976386454197952noreply@blogger.com0