I go mother

donna curda

I go mother.
If I come back,
Will I flower of this mountain,
Fragment of land for a world
Bigger than this.
I go mother.
If I come back,
The body will explode the where torture
And the spirit flagellerà,
As the hurricane, all the doors.
I go .... mother ....
If I come back,
My soul
It will be the word for all poets.

(Kurdish poet) ... with more and Kurdish people

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Color artist-Bruno Sportelli

Bruno Artistacolori

You can fill an empty white in many colors
but when the brush follows the road
an emotion becomes art.
The art of expressing the soul inventing harmony
Rainbow Heart
who fall in love with the colors
of that idea expressed on the canvas
to become framework.
And on that framework there is you
the artist of life.
Life without art
It is like an eternal darkness.

Bruno Sportelli


 Bruno Sportelli

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Always dear to me is thinking

and I am there little to run among golden fields
swaying in the hot desert wind.
The yellow color on the farmyard,
the sweet sound of threshing, the dust,
cries of children on the damp straw.
Tired sleep after endless days
of sun and games.
I dress with memories: the smell of wheat,
ancient scent of life, of emotions
that stop in the soul.
The soft sound of the millstone
Between curious looks and dusty sacks of flour.
And then the party, the music, the dances, the smiles,
the dinner, the essays and the memories
sweet forever enclosed.




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Please stop

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Stop the wind in your hair
brings you the scent of unknown lands,
of crops stretched out in the sun, of flowers smelling of dew.
Listen to the sound of the sea has always been the same;
stop your mind and settle on a lawn,
the grass will be your companion,
raise your gaze in silence,
someone will smile at you;
love without fear and you will be freer,
stop and listen to the song of distant people
and you will be one of them.

(declaimed at Trebbo Poetico 2002)





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Horizon ... where the water hugs the sky
where the wind holds its breath
and the sun bathes in the blue.
Where white peaks turn their gaze
endlessly and flickering images
they blend into nothing.
Where the light fog envelops the thoughts
and transports them far in time.
Where the placid river joins the sea,
where the look made of ancient memories
dresses up again while the horizon dresses up with life.





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