Fabrizio Ulivieri's Blog, page 34

Oggi non sai che sarà

 

al mio vivere

Vattene notte su vai, i fantasmi oscuri su prendi,

prendi la paura tua e fattene carico - vai!

Spazio fai alla luce - inganni non vuole - discendi!

Apro gli occhi e già vedo - che sì finirai.

Sporco mi lava la grigia zona e indugia stanca.

Sta e non va aldilà, sta, ma avanza - cadrà.

So che per ultima duri incerta - ma pallida sbianchi.

Apriti anima dì fa' - che or non sai che sarà.

You cannot flee what you are - III

 

The still-fascinating lady, the directress, believed in being what you are, in the energy you are, even as one evolves over time.
She knew she was no longer what she was, yet she was aware she still was what she was before - under her skin.
Her name was Paola.

She believed in Beauty. Love is beauty, breathing is beauty, gazing at the sky is beauty, and above all, poetry. “Beauty makes people better,” she would often declare in meetings.

She was intelligent but not cerebral. She lacked a tendency to be introspective. Part of her sharp mind consisted in recognizing that too much hesitation can paralyze the creativity of beauty.

Luca, the Italian writer was a creator of beauty.
He had recently composed such beautiful poems. She had been captivated by his way of crafting poetry. By his words about poetry: "Poetry unveils in the human being the need for Beauty, the need for feeling the Beauty in itself, and this feeling is supported by the divine light. It halts us on the threshold of the divine light, without crossing that threshold, where we senses the light beyond that threshold."

Non so se io mai potrò esser te

Non so se io mai potrò esser te.

Ma qualche volta lo sento che

Quasi tocco quell' Esser te e tu me.

E quando tu mi chiedi di continuo

Di abbracciarti e dirti "ti amo",

Allora la carne tua e il profondo degli occhi vedo.

E mi avvicino - odo in quella carne e quegli occhi

In me, farsi il tuo vero te.

E amo la tua pelle, il tuo odore, il tuo calore.

E si tiepida lontano e muore, sì, il dolore.

Si rompe qua il filo quasi spezzato

 

A ClaudinaSi rompe qua il filo quasi spezzato
ormai - dolce vi stavo solo e appeso.
In fondo starci non era peccato.
Sentirlo triste è - si rompe sorpreso.

Ma una voce chiama forte - distante
e dà speranza - oltre è la vita, sì.
E vedo questo mondo qui - spaesanteche senza luce muore ogni miser dì.
Un nome ho e soffro te - non so perché.Non chieder mai - dolore grande inquieta.Con me sarai - di là amor vivrà finchécon mia leggera mano te farò lieta.

The foundation of average people lies in the 'One says' (Man sagt) — in this, they see the justification of themselves

Heidegger clearly grasps the foundation of the average and massified human being.
All of his being is grounded in the "They" (Das Man) rather than in an original and personal vision of events.
Heidegger provides a perfect interpretation of this in his discussion of death:

Das Man hat für dieses Ereignis auch schon eine Auslegung gesichert. Die ausgesprochene oder auch meist verhaltene »flüchtige« Rede darüber will sagen: man stirbt am Ende auch einmal, aber zunächst bleibt man selbst unbetroffen (***)

"Das Man (The They) has already secured an interpretation for this event. The explicitly or usually implicitly ‘fleeting’ talk about it suggests: one dies eventually, but for now, one remains personally unaffected."


The attitude of the average and massified person is not only correlated with "one says" (man sagt) but also with "remaining unaffected" (sich unbetroffen bleiben).

"One dies" (man stirbt) has the same significance as "one says" (man sagt).

Death is treated as any idle talk (Gerede); when we say "one dies" (man stirbt), we proclaim our own "unaffectedness" (Unbetroffenheit) regarding dying.

And in this desire to remain unaffected, the average and massified person permanently excludes themselves from an active and original search for any interpretation and feels justified in it.

----------------------------

(***) Seind Und Zeit § 51

You cannot flee what you are - II

 

To my friend Corrado, unforgettable
The old man follows the structures of his thoughts when he considers her. The structures surface in the emerging light of his soul, undeniably.
He is Italian, an Italian of seventy, a vigorous seventy, a writer.
He has come to Vilnius to lecture for a small but discerning circle of readers.
His way of looking at her, in the embryonic gleam he saw in the woman taking form, could seem too dry and severe but it was incisive, in a way that made him a distinct enough personage in her eyes.
But how did the two of them come to meet?
The invitation had come from The Italian Culture Institute that staged monthly lectures, and she happened to be the directress. Þæt wæs ġehæp“that was fitting, it was appropriate to be.
All that happens fits to happen in the form that is convenient to happen. The pieces fell into place, as they do, in ways that seem random but are not.

In me che vedo te tu sei riflessa

In fondo fondo il tuo io è pari
al mio quando riesco - ché lo so cessa
lí mio dire e male - far che appari
uguale te a me - e vivi riflessa.
In me che amo te - vedi tu stessa.

You cannot flee what you are - I

 

How does the beauty of a woman evolve when she goes in for her forties?

She's still beautiful and has the beauty of her remote wild young attraction slowly fading away.

She's not sexy anymore like she probably was, but she acquires a mature aura that keeps you watching her and you are never sated.

Her dark hair and eyes, high cheekbones, full mouth—are striking and her voice, a low contralto, has a suave attractive power, you cannot move your look away from her.

She's feeding your need to imagine women like an old man properly needs to think.

The thinking has structures and you are following them, they work like an inner subtle light.

You cannot flee what you are bound to follow, it comes from afar and never dies.

You cannot flee what you are

 

How does the beauty of a woman evolve when she goes in for her forties?

She's still beautiful and has the beauty of her remote wild young attraction slowly fading away.

She's not sexy anymore like she probably was, but she acquires a mature aura that keeps you watching her and you are never sated.

Her dark hair and eyes, high cheekbones, full mouth—are striking and her voice, a low contralto, has a suave attractive power, you cannot move your look away from her.

She's feeding your need to imagine women like an old man properly needs to think.

The thinking has structures and you are following them, they work like an inner subtle light.

You cannot flee what you are bound to follow, it comes from afar and never dies.

Non mi chiedere passione - Clizia

 

Dato di me sapevi il lato scuro 

talora ambiguo persino lascivo.

Perché da me Clizia - hai chiesto passione?