Author Archives: galbarosa

Being and Time

I am who I was and who I’ll be and who was not but could have been or could perhaps but will not be ( is this the magic soap to wash away regret and lather hope? ) for sure I’ll never be who I should be I am … Essere e Tempo Io sono […]

The King’s Troop horses on a morning walk

Like waves of a bay torrent, three by three, they clang along the road the Army steeds; in rhythm, striking, beautiful to see, obedient and compliant on their leads. Grey skies above: a canvas for the mood of Sergeant Doom, while lanky fractal trees are playing tricks and shameless, in the nude, they mock the […]

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“È” come un re sull’ultimo gradino della sublime scala dei perché e la sostiene. Ontologia dell’Essere: inizio e fine, unica fonte della nostra verità. — Riflessioni su Sein und Zeit (Heidegger)

Autunno

Una sull’altra, a chiazze, sul selciato, dormono soffici, d’oro le foglie, forse in un sogno brumoso le coglie il dubbio d’avere un po’ troppo frusciato. Ma è tardi. Ora il ramo, educato all’indifferenza del vento che toglie, tremulo avverte, gelide e spoglie le sue estremità, lassù, desolato. Bianca, la luce dell’alba autunnale tinge di fragile […]

14 May 1973 “Seven die in helicopter crash”

One day in May they told us you were dead, inside a monster called Agusta Bell: “it crashed, there was no chance — no, no-one fled, it burned — but up in heaven, now, they dwell”. Our Mamma froze, she gasped yet she did not shed tears, because the three of us were so so […]

The Holm

…and what are you doing there aloof, full-leafed, when all the leaves have left?!?

Soldiers (1918)

hanging like in the autumn on to the trees the leaves – my translation of Giuseppe Ungaretti’s poem: Soldati Si sta come d’autunno sugli alberi le foglie

Two people

A mirror palindrome One is happy not unusual except it’s eight am and it’s grey “I‘ll walk with you for a bit you don’t mind do you” happy humming “lovely the wild birds … how they fly free drawing gentle loops on that crisp blue water” an uncertain sun pierces the clouds “in those spent […]

Nomina induta

Ovid’s Metamorphoses III.206-236 Actaeon, transformed by the goddess Diana into a deer, as punishment for spying on her bathing, is pursued and mauled by his own hounds. Latin reading: https://youtu.be/qAt0hORk4hU My translation While in a daze (the shock of his likeness to deer so perplexing), Blackfur and Tracker, hawk-eyed, are the first to call out […]

Iron Girl

On the night I visited the Antony Gormley exhibition at the R A (Royal Academy of Arts) in London Asleep inside the courtyard on a tile, an iron baby lies in foetal pose, alone outdoors, deceivingly fragile, attracting open praise, demanding close inspection: rugged surface, solid core cast less than seven days after her birth, […]