venerdì 21 dicembre 2012

SU CONZETTU DE ZIVILIDADE ISPRICADU A SOS ISTUDIANTES DE 1 B.


Thathari, su 21 de Nadale de su Duamizas e doighi

SA FINE DE SU MUNDU O SA FINE DE SU BLOG IN SARDU E BIA?
(That's the end of the world as we know it...R.E.M.)

Su deus Mitra (chi assimizat meda a su Cristos) chi dominat  sa forza brutale.
Calendariu Maya 


Cun custu blog torramus a impittare sa limba inglesa pro sos istudentes de inglesu de iscola e pro chie lu cumprendet.

Passadu un annu dae cando amus cuminzadu a iscrier in limba sarda diad esser tempus de unu "bilanciu".

Seighi miza lettores in d'un annu no sun pagos ma mancu meda. Sempre pius mi enid a conca de mudare su blog in limba sarda in d'unu blog de incontru de limbas in su cale dognunu iscriet e legget in sa limba chi connoschet mezus.

Zertu s'ideale diad esser a bortare su sardu in italianu o in inglesu cun babylon, ma paret chi ancora no bi semus.

E duncas, i s'impertantu bos devides abituare a bider post in sardu, in italianu e in inglesu.

Mi dispiaghet pro sos puritanos de sa limba sarda, ma mi so abizende chi sa limba sarda a sa sola no mi bastat pius, no in s'internet.

E tando custa orta, leggidebos unu pagu de inglesu, si puru MADE IN SARDINIA.

 su conzettu de zivilidade


MODULE ONE . HISTORY OF CIVILISATION
UNIT ONE THE CONCEPTS OF CIVILISATION, CULTURE AND LITERATURE
Through words, symbols, pictures and movies.

CIVILISATION AND THE MYTHS OF THE WESTERN CULTURE.

As Antonio Golino said in ian interview on the radio (Radio 3, 20 12 2012) old nations get tired of wars as Europe after the 1st and 2nd world war tragedy , while new nations like the United States, or Israel, seem never tired of wars and they are always ready to engage in a new one. So peace and war seem to be conncted with the youth or old age of nations and with the averafge age of its population. The older the popularion the less inclined to war it seems, the younger, the readier.

William Golding, the author of Lord of the flies, a terrible parable of man’s evil, thinks that man produces evil as a bee produces honey. Until we don’t understand this very simple and sad truth we are condamned to repeta the sama fatal errors.

One of the basic meaning of civilised and civilisation is connected with the idea of peaceful living and respect of others.

The word civilisation comes from the latin civitates which on its turn is related with the semitic word bitu, which meant at the same time population, territory and house. The latin word civitate(m) meant ectly the same thing: the house-territory inhabited by one population. This is the origin of villa, and village and probably of vicus.


An introduction to the study of Language and Civilisation.

The word civilisation may cover many different meanings which have overlapped over time. Nevertheless, some basic implications can be identified.

1    civilisation as being “civilised”

The first concept of civilisation, from ancient times, is probably the one which considers it as the state of being civilised, as opposed to the wild, the savage, the primitive and brutish state of man, the barbarous.
In this sense “civilised”, “civil”,  seems synonimous of evoluted, organized, “urban”, belonging to a civitas, a city, a township. That is a member of a cultivated and superior population, more advanced in culture, learning, technologies, as opposed to the conquered, very often (but not always) the more “natural” and rustic man, the inhabitant of the countryside, the steppe, the mountains, that is to say, countryman, the sheperd, the nomad.
In a similar way it was used by the Greeks, the Romans, the European colonists, by the colonisers towards the colonised.
This concept also includes an idea of superiority, as when the Romans felt superior to the more primitive Germanic tribes, or when the white, puritan English colonist, like the archetype Robinson, felt naturally superior to the primitive Friday.

civilisation as the progress of mankind

With the XVII century and the Enlightenment the concept of civilisation developed and acquired two contradictory ideas: one positive and one quite negative. On one hand it meant the progress and the evolution of mankind during its long history from the primitive darkness to the light of conscience and reason. The progress of mankind was seen as inevitable, a direct line through time which was bound to glorious destinations of wealth, justice, peace, tolerance and freedom from slavery and oppression. The primitive state of mankind was seen as a state of savagery and violence, which was behind, while civilisation lay ahead.

Civilisation as the social and historical achievemnts of one historical population.

On the other hand we generally refer to civilisations, in the plural, to those historical examples of progress and technology and culture among one given population: so we may speak of Roman civilisation, Greek civilisation, Etruscan civilisation, or, in other continents the Indian civilisation, the Chinese civilisation, The Mayas, the Aztecs etc.
In this sense he word civilisation means the historical achivemnt of one given population at one stage of its history and life. As such civilisations look like living organisms, they are born, the develop, they reach maturity and a climax and they finally fall down into decadence and die, or if they do not die completely they develop slowly into something different, generally belonging to another civilisation (for example Roman over Greek, or Greek over Egyptian).

In this sense we may also speak about British civilisation, Italian civilisation or French civilisation, and we mean the study of the arts, history, language and culture of one population.

The civilisation paradox in Jean Jacques Rousseau.

A quite different idea of civilisation was developed by the Swiss philosopher Jean Jacques Rousseau. He said that human society has gone too far from the original state of nature, freedom and happiness, so that the individual has been corrupted in its original spontaneity, goodness and brotherhood by the necessities of social life because of which man has lost its original human values becoming corrupt. The Swiss philospher made this statement comparing the simple direct spontaneous life of country people and that of the primitive populations discovered in the New World with the life of European sophisticated towns anc cities.

So,  was civilisaton a good ora  bad thing?

THE MYTH OF THE GOOD SAVAGE


On one hand Rousseau suggest that civilisation is the product of human society and it is a factor of corruption for the individual because the individuals must adapt to the laws, the rules, the social conventions of urbanity and town life losing their original spontaneity, authenticity and even their freedom. Rousseau thought that all men were born free and good (like the child is) but that the complications of social life – i.e. civilisation – turn him bad. In fact the drawbacks of urban social life are that most of us are obliged – in the name of peace and urbanity – to wear masks, conventional behaviour, conformism, submission to power, in a word our original freedom and goodness is spoiled, ruined, corrupted . This fact could be seen in the behaviour of the savages and primitves of the New World, who showed to be more similar to children in their goodness, spontaneity and good will much unlike the European colonisers who looked as greedy, violent, hypocrite creatures who do everything for personal interest, economic profit, thirst for power and money making.
Many people at those times could see how different the natives were from the civilised Europeans, how easily they could be cheated, spoiled, robbed of what they possessed. The myth of the good savage was born, a myth by which the savages were believed to be almost like children, because they are almost uncapable of hypocrisy and cheating and evil doing like most Europeans.
The fact was probably that for the primitives word was still a sacred thing.
If men were born good and free as those savages showed to be, then it is civilisation which corrupts men.

This idea was taken up by the Romantic poets. In England the poet William Blake thought that all social institutions are enemies to the individual, because they limit and corrupt his natural freedom. The state, the governments, political institutions, even the Church, or civil institutionas like marriage, cause unhappiness, injustice, suffering, moral decadence.


HUMAN RIGHTS ARE A NATURAL THING


At the same time the idea of an original Golden Age in which man was good, when he was like a child, a kind of good savage still uncorrupted by laws, conventions, rules and masks, had as an implication the complementary idea that all men were born free, not subject to any power, that they had freedom to express their ideas, to go around places without asking for permission, freedom to think and to believe in different Gods, or ideas, or ways of life.

The conscience of man’s rights was born: that man have got rights which cannot be sold or alienated – the inalienable rights  of man - and that those rights were natural, pertaining to all human beings, to all humanity. The idea of the natural rights of men had as an implication the fact the none  can  be king  or Queen by divine right, but that it is the people, the society of individual men belonging to a certain land and territory who freely decide who must govern and rule over them. Tyranny and despotism and absolute monarchies were going to meet revolutionary philosophical ideas which were bound to throw their absolutism and arbitrary power into the dust.

But these ideas of freedom, equality and brotherhood – liberté, egalité, fraternité – which were to inspire the American revolution and the French Revolution were still a product of progress, cvilisation and reason!

RETURN TO NATURE


Man must go back to their natural state, they mudt rediscover the Golden age, his original goodness and freedom.
Man have lost their original condition of happiness in a natural world and they must fight to get it back from those powers who have deprived them of their happiness and freedom. These are the same reasons which are written in declaration of independecne of the American colonists against the British tyranny.

ROMANTIC REBELLION AGAINST THE POLITICAL tyranny


This romantic and idealistic rebellion against political and social tyranny can be seen in poets like Byron, Shelley, and Blake, today it can be found in juvenile music and juvenile movements like the Beat generation, the Hyppie generation, the Freak, The Punk, the Rock culture, but even in philosophers like Hassel or artists like Pasolini.
Why does so much juvenile stuff and so many rock songs celebrate and exalt rebellion and wildness? I’m wild, I’m indian? May be because many young people in the western world do not recognise themesleves in the anti-values of money and profit. The institutions which preserve the capitalist economy and the capitalist exploitation of men in the name of meaterail consumerism are seen as accomplices in a mass crime, the crime of social inequality and injustice: th system, the establishment is seen by many as a horrible Moloch to whom we have to sacrifice our lives.
Why do so many young people look to the flower revolution, the beat generatoon, the hippies, the punk, the grunge, the heavy metal, the indiani metropolitani, the freak, tye piercing? Isn’t piercing or tatoos a form of ostentatious primitivism, tribal recognitivion and belonging?
The ring on the nose wastypical of much racist and colonialist iconography. Why is it a symbol of juvenile rebelllion? What about street music, hip hop, rap music, altenartive magazines and press?

What are young people communicating with peircing, tatoos, graffiti and rock rebellion if not an istinctive  refusal of economic and political conformism?

CIVILISATION AND PROMETHEUS


Prometheus , the Titan who stole the fire from the gods to give it to men, is the god of civilisation, because his myth represents the myth of knowledge, the fire he brings to men is the fire of knowledge and science. In this sense Prometheus is the god of the industrial revolution and all technological revolutions.
Civilisation is certainly knowledge, conscience, the passage from the darkness of ignorance to the light of knowledge and reason, but knowledge in itself does not mean more wisdom.
As T. S. Eliot put it, “where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge where is the knwoledge we have lost in information?”

If the XVIII Enlightenment has brought man on the verge of collapse and the destruction of the planet, his house, there must be something wrong in the idea of Enlightenment and progress itself. Where is the mistake?

We may think that material progress does not mean moral progress, that the market canot be the measure of man’s life, that material wealth means exploitation, and consumerism does not bring happiness, that if everybody was paid according to his work there would be no capitalism. So capitalism is based on exploitation and suffering and social injustice. The market is a market of legal exploitation.

THE XIX CENTURY’S HYPOCRISY


During the XIX century the idea of civilisation vecame synonimous of the light of progress as opposed to the darkness of wild and primitive costumes, the ignorance of the “true religion” and knowledge of the colonial white man. So it was the duty [that is, the moral justification] of the European Christian culture to bring the light of progress and democracy and technology to those who lived in darkness. It was the white man’s duty since he was the more fortunate and civilised to bring the torch of peace (?), freedom (?), tolerance (?) democracy (?), justice (???) to the savage and the primitive.
It was, in Rudyard Kipling’s words, “the white man’s burden.

But in the same years new philosophical ideas, scientific discoveries and new disciplines were mining the certainties and pride of Western civlised pre-eminence: Marxism first , Darwinism after, psychoanalyis and cultural anthropology were going to disturb the illusion created by the technological supremacy, the imposition of colonialism and the ruthless brutality of western imperialism.


EUROPEAN COLONIALISM AND  IMPERIALISM, THE WHITE MAN’S BURDEN OR THE MERRY DANCE OF DEATH AND TRADE?

There were writers like Rudyard Kipling who seriously believed that the white men were bringing peace, democracy and progress to the populations of Asia, India and Africa who – in their opinion – lived in darkness, the darkness of ignorance and primitive life. Kipling even came to write a poem addreessed to the new imperial power, America, entitled The white man’s burden, as if truly the white men’s only interest was to bring the torch of civilisation, knowledge and progress to the unfortunate savage of the jungle.
Another writer, Mark Twain, suggested that Kipling’s vision  was not realistic, and that the white man’s interest was only  to shake the torch of light and progress only to attract the wild and the primitive out from the bush to better imprison them with false illusions and grab their riches, raw materials and resources.
Still another writer, Jospeh Conrad, in Heart of Darkness (from which the Vietnam movie Apocalypse Now took inspiration) , suggests that the history of civilisation is only a long story of massacre, violence and human exploitation, he calls European colonisation and imperialism of Africa “the merry dance of death and trade”.

CIVILISATION AS CULTURE: CULTURAL ANTHROPOLOGY


When we say civilisation we also mean culture, the technology, skills and economic, social and political condition of a given poipulation. At the end of the century anthropological studies began to have a close look at the populations of the world and their culturas, so that it became quite clear that there not one stages of civilisation but many different ones. And it was not easy to say who lived in a happy condition, the peaceful populations of Polinesia and Amazionia forests or the busy, unhappy, exploited workers, sailors, soldiers, traders and merchants of Europe? A famous French painter Paul Gaugain thought primitive life was much better than a post in a Bank and left Europe for good.
Many people started to think that there are no superior or inferior civilisations but only different cultures. So may be the European have no right at all to colonise, oppress, conquer, “civilise” other populations.

FOLKLORE AND POPULAR TRADITIONS, WAYS OF LIFE QUITE DIFFERENT FROM MODERNITY

Moreover, anthropological studies, that is the study of myths, religions, floklore and popular traditions and customs, has shown that even in the more civilised countries there are different levels of social life. Folklore and local traditions, for example, could be regarded as remains of ancient cultures which coexist with modernity. These customs and traditions often refer to magic and have little to do with modern civilisation as we intend it. In many countries people still believe in supertstions like “the evil eye” and they ask old women to make a “ a medicine” to cure it. These can be considered as remains of primitive thought and culture.
Famous scholars like Frazer, De Martino, Mircea Eliade have studied popular folklore, which is mainly oral not written down, and linked to the natural cycles of the sun and the moon, a form of culture which is more present in the country than in the city, but which is not totally isolated from the learned traditions.
Popular culture is strongly conservative, keeps its traditions jelously and does not like change. Urban culture is mainly exposed to change and progress. Today we can distinguish more or less technologicl cultures, urban cultures and tribal ones, western culture and third world cultures, local cultures and national ones, or global ones.



MORAL DILEMMAS OF TECHNOLOGICAL PROGRESS


Man’s reasoning is sometimes driven to draw false conclusions from authentic facts: one evident example is that we may think that  moral ethics and morals are connected with technological progress or with the simple passing of time. As a matter of fact, moral progress doen not have any relationship with time or progress. History is there to show that terrible tragedies are behind the corner because man does not learn the lessons of the past.
We seem to be condemned to repeat the same errors of our fathers, for reasons which may be conncted with man’s more primitive brain, the violent and aggressive nature of survival in a hostile world.


Does technological or political progress mean that man is any better? That men has become morally better than his fathers?

FOLLOW UP SUGGESTIONS


Clash of civilisation (Conrad, Kipling, Twain)
Civilised/barbarous (Golding)
Old and new generations, Baricco, I barbari.
Civilisation as the repression of the individual instincts (Freud, Marcuse, Hilman)
Vonnegut
Man and nature (Romantic, Walden))
Western and non western (TAO OF PHILOSPHY)
Cultural Relativism
Moral dilemma
Technè vs nature (Galimberti)
Moral philosophy
Habermas and ethical communication
Pasolini and the anthropological catastrophe

martedì 13 novembre 2012

AJO' NARA

THATHARI, SU 13 DE SANT'ANDRIA, DUAMIZAS E DOIGHI

ajo' nara: poesia cument "asamprainata samadhi"

In d'unu liberu de Elemire Zolla "Archetipi" (Red edizioni, 2003) b'at una definizione de poesia chi  mi piaghesit meda: asamprainata samadhi. Est una espressione in sanscritu chi cheret narrer un'ispessie de "unione metafisica" intra e s'osservadore ei sa cosa osservada. Una cosa chi sos poetes connoschen bene. Nde fimus faeddende oe in d'una classe de su liceo - sa 1 B - ca devia introduire su modulu de poesia inglesa, e tando lis apo nadu de chircare una filasteria in ingleseu, una cantone sempre i inglesu e una poesia in limba italiana: s'iscopu fit de li fagher a abidere chi de sa poesia isso ischin già medas cosas e mi pariat cosa ona de los acculziare a sa poesia inglesa cuminzende dae sa idea de poesia chi ognunu de aissos giughet in conca o mezus, in coro sou.

Mi s'an battidu poesias bellas meda de Quasimodo, (m'illumino d'immenso sa pius gettonada, forsis ca fit puru sas pius curza...) de Ungaretti, de D'annunzio (piaggio sul pineto), de Pascoli (novembre), de Montale, de Neruda, de Leopardi (Infinito), a sa fine pro los premiare (!) lis apo resadu una poesia mia in limba sarda, "Pitulera luna" de su 1996. Ma'n'iscultadu chena bi cumprendere un'acca ma poi lis apo contadu su sinnificu in italianu. Dogni istudente deviat leggere sa poesia chi aiat battidu e s'atmosfera fit bella meda, chi manco duos operaios chi sun bintrados a che leare un'anta de unu balcone l'an potida guastare.

Cand'an ischidu chi aio iscrittu ateras poesias in inglesu e in italianu m'ana pedidu de las pubblicare in su blog, e sigomente fia battor meses chena poder acciapare un'iscuja pro iscriere issu blog (blocco creativo????) apo nadu: beh, custa est sa olta chi torramus a iscriere in su blog.

No isco si sas poesias an a esser de piaghere ostru, ispero chi emmo, si azis a iscujare sa poveresa de s'artista chi est mancadu a sas ambiziones suas.
Sas poesias sun de periodos e de materias differentes, beh, azis a bider bois cales bos aggradan si mai.


DUST BIN
(9/11 dust)



One year has passed, four
long seasons of war,
and I’m still here and puzzled and wonder
thinking of what you’ve done.
Of what US have done,
with God on our side, both.

Bin,
you son of the Western Progress,
I saw your dust,
And I was shocked
And For a few months,
Couldn’t think of anything else
Bin,
I saw your Satan’s face  In the dust
Of New York’s fallen obelisks
The Sentinels of Trade and Commerce
The Doors of Finance and Greed
Before the press And the Television
Ever said a word
About your Evil dust face
I had seen it
Your face of dust, Grinning
Haunting the city
With the phantom sentinels.
Congratulations,
Mr Bin For the Big Dust
And the Big Death Of the Infidels.

I hope your God is happy (whiich I think not).

Bin, I am nobody, but
thou art dust,
Bin
Thou art bound to die
Bin
Even though Thou be Mr Death
Death shall have your Scalp.

Now the palefaces
Have already unburied Their tomahawk
Now it’s war, Bin , That’s what you wanted
you’ve got it! that’s what you were longing for

Right then, on that day, I had a stomachache,
you know, I saw your face
On Al Jazeera News, I saw Your sunken eyes
Your ill-looking pale-face, your forked tongue
your long knives, your guns. Your Apparel of Death.
Your white lips Pouring sick messages
Your faithful cowboy rifle.

You know what, Bin?
You reminded me of some old pale
Wanted Western gunman
Wanted - dead or alive
in the Sheriff’s room.
Sometimes, I wonder
was there such a great distance
between you and Mr Gee Dablju Bush’s
country cowboy’ s boots with the Stars and Stripes and the Golden Eagle?

Bin,
Sure, you had
great Masters teaching the ICT of Death
In the Western colleges of Evil
and Universities of Democracy
Ltd & Civilisation Co.
all Brothers
in Arms.

But, Bin
Now, thy secrets are unveiled.
Thou art Bin
And thou art dust  of the Arabian Desert.
Sure,  you can uplift great clouds of Western blood
With one little finger
Whirling the West
in great shrouds of western dust
tears and terror.

But, Bin
the rage of the Golden Eagle shall pursuit you
and thou shalt sleep no more, thou shalt not
sleep in peace anymore.
The Eagle of Gold and In God we trust
shall unmask you and smash you
on the Arabian sands of Afghanistan
cost what may...

Bin
Medieval Bin Art Thou Muslim dust?
Thou art the dust of the dust,
Dust Bin Thou art
I ain’t gonna forget you, I shall not ignore you
I wouldn’t ignore you
Mr Death Sales Representative.

Mr Bin Mr Dust Mr Death
Thou, too, must die in dust.
Mr Bin.
Mr Big Death Himself  shall put you
In his Dust Bin
and never let you out,
‘cause , Bin, you’re Butcher ‘s Dust Bin Clouded with Red Dust.

9.11.2002


alla bottega del fabbro

la tua parola se ambiziosa
che sia ruvida come il sasso inciso
spoglia e dura come una stele
per la fondazione di un  tempio

la tua parola se fonte montana
che sia lapide del tuo tormento
fiore sulla terra comune
vanga che solca il ventre della terra

la tua parola o umile fabbro
che sia forgiata nel fuoco dell ‘ esperire
battuta ancora rovente sull’incudine
e poi a sfriggere nel cantaro di pietra

la tua parola che sia forgiata ad artigliare il dolore
stretta come tenaglia a mordere
l’angoscia che trapassa il tuo cuore
incandescente sull’incudine


ASSENTE

immaginati assente
da questo mondo febbrile
immaginati polvere di roccia 
staccata dal vento del sole
figlio di questa madre impassibile

immaginati soffio 
caldo di brezza del sud
onda cullata dell' usato mare
immaginati
puro sguardo imperturbabile


Ballata per Alessandro.

Cinque anni sono passati, cinque lunghi inverni,
trascorsi a scavare tra i versi
il senso della vita e la via, il sentiero,
senza capire quanto aspro e duro,
con i tuoi  adolescenti compagni,
e ora con innocente crudeltà un’allieva
assegna per una volta  al maestro il compito a casa:
“Racconti, se può, di noi, e di queste cinque stagioni insieme trascorse”.

Sorpreso e sventato, fece promessa di versi,
in loro omaggio invano cercò una poema
degno dell’impresa,
un canto di commiato, una lirica, un’ode,      
nessuna  ne scrisse e nessuna  trovò, tranne questa
che lo colpì con clamore:

“E’ ora che  questo cuore venga divelto
poiché altri esso ha cessato di muovere:
tuttavia,  sebbene  non possa essere amato
ancora lasciatemi amare!

A lungo in verità sulla strada il maestro
perplesso si interrogò
sul come il libro della vita si fosse
impigliato su quei versi dell’eroe poeta
caduto a Missolonghi, 
del guerriero per la libertà,
scritti come presentimento di morte,  in terra di Alessandro.

I miei giorni sono della foglia gialla;
i fiori e i frutti dell’amore, perduti;
Il verme, il cancro e la pena,
sono miei solo.

Neanche vedendo il pianto sui bei volti stravolti
del  coro di fanciulle, che più non attendevano i versi
pensava il maestro che fosse quella l’elegia,
quello il duro commiato della vita, il piatto amaro approntato dal destino.

Il fuoco che sul mio petto preda
è  solo come un isola di vulcano;
nessuna torcia  accende al suo fulgore
una pira funebre.

Quando il maestro ebbe in risposta alla sua confusione
il tuo nome, o  Alessandro – l’allievo di Aristotele,
il giovane padrone del mondo-,
non pensò ad un oracolo metafisico
non pensò che quello fosse il tuo canto funebre
che gli spezzava la parola in gola

.........................
Se tu rimpiangi la tua gioventù, perché vivere?
La terra della morte onorevole
è qui:  – su, al campo di battaglia , e rilascia
per sempre il  soffio vitale.

E lui ancora  non comprese
finché col cuore pesante,
alla  pagina dimenticata aperta sullo scrittoio
il suo pensiero ritornò,
sull’ ultima epifanìa dell’amato poeta:

Cerca – più spesso trovata che cercata –
una tomba di  soldato, per te la migliore
e poi guardati intorno, scegli il tuo terreno,
e prenditi il tuo riposo.”

Solo allora il maestro comprese
che il caso aveva scelto per te,  timido re pacifista ,
dal cuore troppo nobile e fragile,
in guerra solo con te stesso ,
che cercavi amici sulla ragnatela invisibile ,
l’epitaffio del poeta-sconfitto caduto per l’altrui libertà;

il fatale commiato
dagli amici  crudeli e innocenti,
dal maestro distratto,
dall’estraneo mondo,
dall’alieno racconto,
dalla vita, incomprensibile tela,
intessuta da un dio indifferente.


Dear Bill,

Bill,
poetry is a never ending game
played by generous fools;

a poem, my dear Will,  is a jewel
hidden by a dentist
into the teeth
of a sleeping crocodile;

a poem, oh Bill,  is an electric motion
put into words -
translated into an alien language -
and understood by flowers;

poetry is trying,
Bill, oh Buffalo Bill,
to paint the buffaloes cavalry charge
from the naked saddle of a in Indian horseback

poetry is the cure
your wounded heart needs
when the arrow
has pierced the skin
but the scars, you know, 
for ever will stay
and never ever ’ll go away

it is, indeed, as if it were,
the final catalogue
of all the poems
your heart can sing

(if life is
PERHAPS NOT
a tale 
told by an American idi-ot)
UTU-ATUM- RAH
(da leggere al ritmo di Also spracht Zarathustra)



padre nostro che sei nel cielo
tu padre della vita
altissimo inaccessibile potente
che nessuno sguardo può sostenerne la vista
che accechi con la tua luce e il tuo bagliore
tu che sei la luce
la verità perché illumini il mondo
la giustizia perché al tuo occhio luminoso
ed abbagliante nulla sfugge
la vita perché ogni creatura al tuo calore
si riscalda e si volge fiducioso
tu che illumini la via al mercante
e all'umile mendicante
ogni albero pianta alimento
da te trae sostentamento
tu sposo della terra
e dell’acqua profonda
tu che rendi fertile la terra
in primavera e d’estate
quando forte ritorni a scaldare il mondo
a te che rinasci ogni giorno
e ogni giorno sembri morire
a te sempre più forte della oscura notte
mai ci abbandoni alla notte cupa
che sei sempre stato
sempre sarai
o eterno
rinasci rinasci rinasci

a se stesso ragazzo

ragazzo, come conosco il tuo scorno
come rivedo la tua timidezza
come rivivo la tua fame di conoscere
e la mancanza di un sentiero
quanto daresti per una guida saggia
quanto vorresti un adulto che china il capo
ad ascoltare i tuoi ineffabili crucci
bisognerebbe
appena nati
vaccinare il neonato
contro le malattie della vita

il desiderio di vivere
la paura di dover partire
l’attaccamento alle cose
l’attaccamento agli altri
l’attaccamento a se stessi

bisognerebbe
appena nati
vaccinare contro
la voglia di vivere

così che la vita
non ci assalga alla sprovvista
con incursioni di panico
terrore morboso di dipartita
orrore ammalato di vita

diventi
quello che dovrebbe
un atto involontario,
come un gesto spontaneo
e così
naturale,
quasi il tic
di uno schizofrenico d-io
con sindrome da
molteplice scissa personalità

diventi
il canto del divenire del fiume
tranquillo
in primavera

lavori in corso

come un pipistrello ora esco di notte
quando la luce pare che men mi offenda
le ali stendo per vie deserte
e il pensiero sembra che ne segua il moto

come quando cucciolo di femmina
che mi allattò distante
vedere e sentire eran tutt’uno
e canto di ruscelli tra le pietre
e fruscio di foglie sotto il noce
e i gherigli molli navigli in una fonte scura

dove l’occhio puro s’imbeveva
delle lucide valli e delle colline intorno
e di là, del misterioso mondo,
eroici bagliori immaginava il cuore

ora so che il tempo è come salire il monte
e ogni cosa si disperde nella bruma in lontananza
e tutto come allora,
indicibile
e vorrei solo levare questo peso dal cuore




Homework for class 1E

:( poetry is(

riding through the woods at night
when she shovelling of guns is mute
hiding from the slings
and arrows of prose

wooing a damsel on the brink
of a precipice
marching naked as to war
singing the songs of innocence
and the woes of experience
loving the edges of spoonful knives

the arrogant eye of the blind
which fixes your wings
on a leaf of paper
walking on the edges of hell

the management of clouds
whispering sunny words
to muddy waters
the business of unknown soldier
planning polite genocides

the caravan-siray
of arabian sunsets
the bazar of old-fashioned emotions
the harem is
of the sultan of words

poetry is that strange
suspension of belief
within the grave (and) the cradle

poetry, my friend, is :-)

Totu sos pintos sun leados dae su situ 
http://www.cep.unt.edu
"Why we think nature is beautiful" una istoria de su "pittoresco" in sa pintura.





































NOSTALGIA

THATHARI , SU TRES DE LAMPADAS 2019 Nostalgia, est paraula grecana, cheret narrere, comente ischides tottu, dizizu de torrare an domo ...