Gustav Klimt
Pregnant Woman and Man, 1903
Monday, August 3, 2020
Sunday, August 2, 2020
PIER PAOLO PASOLINI
From Roman Poems
The fury of confession, at first,
then the fury of clarity:
It was from you, Death, that such hypocritical
obscure feeling was born! And now
let them accuse me of every passion,
let them bad-mouth me, let them say I’m deformed,
impure, obsessed, a dilettante, a perjurer.
You isolate me, you give me the certainty of life,
I’m on the stake. I play the card of fire
and I win this little, immense goodness of mine.
I can do it, for I have suffered you too much!
I return to you as an émigré returns
to his own country and rediscovers it:
I made a fortune (in the intellect)
and I’m happy, as I once was,
destitute of any norm,
a black rage of poetry in my breast.
A crazy old-age youth.
Once your joy was confused with terror,
it’s true, and now almost with other joy,
livid and arid, my passion deluded.
Now you really frighten me,
for you are truly close to me,
part of my angry state, of obscure hunger,
of the anxiety almost of a new being.
From Roman Poems
The fury of confession, at first,
then the fury of clarity:
It was from you, Death, that such hypocritical
obscure feeling was born! And now
let them accuse me of every passion,
let them bad-mouth me, let them say I’m deformed,
impure, obsessed, a dilettante, a perjurer.
You isolate me, you give me the certainty of life,
I’m on the stake. I play the card of fire
and I win this little, immense goodness of mine.
I can do it, for I have suffered you too much!
I return to you as an émigré returns
to his own country and rediscovers it:
I made a fortune (in the intellect)
and I’m happy, as I once was,
destitute of any norm,
a black rage of poetry in my breast.
A crazy old-age youth.
Once your joy was confused with terror,
it’s true, and now almost with other joy,
livid and arid, my passion deluded.
Now you really frighten me,
for you are truly close to me,
part of my angry state, of obscure hunger,
of the anxiety almost of a new being.
Friday, July 31, 2020
Thursday, July 23, 2020
Thursday, July 16, 2020
Wednesday, July 15, 2020
Tuesday, July 14, 2020
Monday, July 13, 2020
Saturday, July 11, 2020
Thursday, July 9, 2020
Tuesday, July 7, 2020
Saturday, July 4, 2020
Friday, July 3, 2020
Thursday, July 2, 2020
PIER PAOLO PASSOLINI
From Selected Poems
Behold those times re-created by
the brutal power of sunlit images,
the light of life’s tragedy.
The walls of the trial, the field
of the firing squad; and the distant
ghost of Rome’s suburbs in a ring,
gleaming white in naked light.
Gunshots: our death, our survival.
From Selected Poems
Behold those times re-created by
the brutal power of sunlit images,
the light of life’s tragedy.
The walls of the trial, the field
of the firing squad; and the distant
ghost of Rome’s suburbs in a ring,
gleaming white in naked light.
Gunshots: our death, our survival.
Wednesday, July 1, 2020
Tuesday, June 30, 2020
Monday, June 29, 2020
Sunday, June 28, 2020
Saturday, June 27, 2020
Friday, June 26, 2020
Thursday, June 25, 2020
Wednesday, June 24, 2020
Tuesday, June 23, 2020
Monday, June 22, 2020
Wednesday, June 17, 2020
Tuesday, June 16, 2020
Monday, June 15, 2020
Saturday, June 13, 2020
Friday, June 12, 2020
Thursday, June 11, 2020
Tuesday, June 9, 2020
Monday, June 8, 2020
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