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玛萨mercoledì 20 dicembre 2017
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10:28 PM
The time is too short But never too long To reach ahead To project the image Which will in time become a concrete dream Another cigarette Another day From A to B Again avoiding C, D, and E 'Cause E is where you play the blues Avoiding a death Is to win the game To avoid relegation The big E
Drowning in the big swim Rising to the surface The smell of you That's the lowdown
Pubblicato da
玛萨venerdì 15 dicembre 2017
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10:39 AM
Yu Guangzhong 余光中, the great poet of the Chinese diaspora who spent most of his life in Taiwan, has passed away. Here is perhaps his best known poem (to his chagrin), “Nostalgia” 鄉愁 - in his own handwriting, alongside my quick translation. Safe travels.
Pubblicato da
玛萨mercoledì 9 agosto 2017
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12:40 PM
Tunnel vision, tunnel vision Work, drinks, heartbreak You can’t face the past, the past’s a dark place Can’t sleep, can’t wake, sitting in our boxes Notching up our victories as other people’s losses Another day, another chance to turn your face away from pain Let’s get a takeaway And meet me in the pub a little later, we’ll say the same things as ever Life’s a waiting game When we gonna see that life is happening? And that every single body bleeding on its knees is an abomination And every natural being is making communication And we’re just sparks, tiny parts of a bigger constellation We’re miniscule molecules that make up one body You see the tragedy and pain of a person that you’ve never met Is present in your nightmares, in your pull towards despair And the sickness of the culture, and the sickness in our hearts Is a sickness that’s inflicted by this distance that we share Now, it was our bombs that started this war And now it rages far away So we dismiss all its victims as strangers But they’re parents and children made dogs by the danger Existence is futile, so we don’t engage But it was our boats that sailed, killed, stole, and made frail It was our boots that stamped It was our courts that jailed And it was our fuckin’ banks that got bailed It was us who turned bleakly away Looked back down at our nails and our wedding plans In the face of a full-force gale, we said “Well, it’s not up to us to make this place a better land It’s not up to us to make this place a better land.” Justice, justice, recompense, humility Trust is, trust is something we will never see Till love is unconditional The myth of the individual has left us disconnected, lost, and pitiful I’m out in the rain It’s a cold night in London And I’m screaming at my loved ones to wake up and love more I’m pleading with my loved ones to wake up and love more
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玛萨lunedì 22 maggio 2017
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8:12 PM
"You're a prince, you're a snare, you're a shadow
You're twilight and star burn and shade
You're a sage, you're a wound shared, you're masked
You're a pillar of smoke, you're a platinum heart
You're a brush fire, you're caged, you're free
You're vision pierces, you do not see
You are pieces strewn on the hillside You're open armed, you're armed, you're true You're a revealer of visions, you're the passenger, you're a never fading scar You're twilight and star burn and shade You're the secret veiled, you're the secret revealed, you're surrounded no more You're not there, now you're always here Youre a handsome groom, a loving father, a haunted stairwell You're the clear bell ringing, the mountains echo your song Maybe no one has ever known you You are twilight and star burn and shade"
[Poem by Tom Morello for his friend and band mate Chris Cornell]
Pubblicato da
玛萨giovedì 6 aprile 2017
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5:51 PM
Goa, India. Riposa in pace.
Felice l'uomo che ha raggiunto il porto,
Che lascia dietro di sè mari e tempeste,
I cui sogni sono morti o mai nati,
E siede a bere all'osteria di Brema,
Presso al camino, ed ha buona pace.
Felice l'uomo come una fiamma spenta,
Felice l'uomo come sabbia d'estuario,
Che ha deposto il carico e si è tersa la fronte,
E riposa al margine del cammino.
Non teme né spera né aspetta,
Ma guarda fisso il sole che tramonta.
Pubblicato da
玛萨domenica 12 marzo 2017
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6:44 PM
I have lots of things to teach you now, in case we ever meet, concerning the message that was transmitted to me under a pine tree in North Carolina on a cold winter moonlit night. It said that Nothing Ever Happened, so don’t worry. It’s all like a dream. Everything is ecstasy, inside. We just don’t know it because of our thinking-minds. But in our true blissful essence of mind is known that everything is alright forever and forever and forever. Close your eyes, let your hands and nerve-ends drop, stop breathing for 3 seconds, listen to the silence inside the illusion of the world, and you will remember the lesson you forgot, which was taught in immense milky way soft cloud innumerable worlds long ago and not even at all. It is all one vast awakened thing. I call it the golden eternity. It is perfect.
