last moon

Visualizzazione post con etichetta sardinia. Mostra tutti i post
Visualizzazione post con etichetta sardinia. Mostra tutti i post

sabato 9 maggio 2026

Praised to Karalis

 


https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C9HWH86T

We came from the sea


Tossed by the waves

Following herons

Blown by the wind

What we were

We did not remember

What we expected

We did not know

 

But we promptly liked

The land of silence

Its intense aromas

the strong colors

the bitter tastes

Now festive and peaceful

Now furious and livid

As the mood of the sea

 

And we liked

right away

the eyes of women

for them we stayed

and for them we coped

those who came later:

 

Punic and Roman,

Byzantine,

Iberian and Italian!

 

They have been all embodied,

merged on layers,

fibers of wounded hearts,

vibrant memory of cerebral cortex,

throbbing earth

under our tired feet,

where they stand proud,

oh Karalis,

your magical hills!

 

 

 

 

domenica 15 marzo 2026

Stases of resonances

 


https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FQ488BSM

Everyone has got a flag

And  I remind those songs

talking of peace

talking of love.

Today I remind them

listening to the radio.

I hear from the news

 that after decades

cannonballs keep flying

men searching  for command

and people keep dying.

But now I don't blame God anymore

for the man's thirst of power

for his greed of money.

Everyone has got a flag of glory

to cover the shame of death

and  make his murders as were a right.

venerdì 6 marzo 2026

Stases of resonances

 


https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FQ488BSM

Amazed by Jesus

I was a shepherd

longtime ago

somewhere in Bethlehem

watching my sheep

Though I was waiting

for Someone to come

I could believe

only to my sight

Then I saw a light

sparkling 'n  the sky

I heard a voice

singing with joy

I joined the star

aimed to see

the Glory of God

the King of glee 

I'm still astonished

looking today

as Jesus wanted

choosing to stay

The least of poorness

neatness of magic

plenty with nothingness

the brilliance of love

Please leave me Jesus

the eyes of a boy

watching at the Holy Crib.

 

 

 

 


lunedì 9 febbraio 2026

Where I’ll be going

 


https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0FQ488BSM


Where I’ll be going

This afternoon

After visiting my tired old father

And my mother,

searching on television

Her youngish lost dreams?

Where will I go?

Where will I go

If my fate

Coerces me here

Where struggle is harder

Against prejudice

Against habitude

Against the foresaid?

My body suffers

From constraint continence

‘cause I don’t Know the way

To astral projection

For escaping the world.

I so can’t get

any stuff

To keep me on

And got no place

To go to

This afternoon

And I might be writing somewhere:

“When I’ll be going?”

domenica 1 febbraio 2026

We’ll unfold our verses

 


https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0FQ488BSM


We’ll unfold our verses

 

If everything’s been written

And everything been said

We won’t speak anymore

We won’t write anymore

 

But if we are new prophets

Sent to remind manhood

The world belongs to God

 

And if the world drowns off

In the mud of inky well

And scribes and Pharisees

Roar in the vanities

Then we’ll still howl our dreams

Writing down all our visions

And against their arsenals

We will unfold our verses.

                          In Cagliari September 2008

sabato 24 gennaio 2026

I remember

 



https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0FQ488BSM

I remember when,

at the winter solstice,

 we danced under the stars

to propitiate the favor of the gods!

Then came a man,

the son of the Only true God!

I still look at the sky above me

when the stars come together in December!

 But now I know whom to pray

for the weaknesses of humanity,

and I know whom to thank

for the beauty of the world!

sabato 17 gennaio 2026

Best Regional Author for Sardinia Award 2026

 

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0FQ488BSM

The new day

(on death of my brother Mauritius)

 

Now the veils of Maya have fallen

And no longer covers your body

The armor of the Syrian Naaman;

I see on your face

Shining again the ancient light

Of our childhood games

When hopes

were all to come

And the misleading curtain

Which hardens the hearts

Had not yet come between us.

Run now

On your nimble legs

Wait for me in the sunny lands

Where the sun never sets down.

giovedì 1 gennaio 2026

The revenge of Music




They say that all seas are connected to each other through oceans and straits, forming a single global marine system. And therefore, thanks to the Suez Canal, Sardinia and the Mediterranean are today artificially connected to the Red Sea and therefore to the Persian Gulf, on whose western coast, facing Persia, the star of Doha shines.

But if someone had attended the end-of-year concert, organized on 31 December 2025 by the Sardinia Opera of the Teatro Lirico of Cagliari, he would not have needed to make an effort to search for these geographical connections, which also exist, since the seas and oceans constitute, through the currents, a single hydrographic basin.

But in the civic theater of Cagliari, last night, when Sardinia met Qatar, there were other currents that could be felt in the room and which, in some magical moments, connected the two seas; the Sardinian Mediterranean one, and the Persian one from Doha.

These musical currents crossed the souls of the numerous spectators present, creating a musical atmosphere of brotherhood.

Thus it happened that the percussions of the Qatari Ensemble “Fijiri”, two Darbuka and a Davul, merged perfectly with the instruments of the opera orchestra, composed of winds, woodwinds, brass, piano and other percussions and even more so with the voices of the Choir.

Those who were present could feel strong sensations. It seemed that those sounds, as a whole, called humanity back to a universal spiritual fusion, which, although too often rejected by the narrow vision of politicians and the powerful men of the world, has nevertheless found its guiding spirit in music.

It is undeniable that even the sound stones, masterfully played by the daughter of its creator Pinuccio, and the pianist Andrea Granitzio, were able to intercept these musical currents, which, rising in the large theater space, put the spirit of those present in communication.

Personally I heard the rhythms that the musicians gave to the pearl divers of Qatar. And I perceived the same sounds that echo in our Mediterranean Sea from Morocco and from the other countries that overlook our sea and which constitute a unique cultural entity, from a musical point of view, such as to include all the countries of Arab tradition, even beyond the Arabian Peninsula. And Sardinia, which has dominated the Mediterranean for millennia, radiates its music and sounds all around, even through the sound stones of Pinuccio Sciola. A symphony of Mediterranean sounds that Fabrizio De André would certainly have liked, convinced as he was that the Mediterranean constituted a unique basin of culture and sounds.

The Gavino Murgia Quintet also participated in this universal symphony of sounds, in the song of the two seas, with their masterfully performed pieces, which in the musical form of jazz, recalled, at times, the best Frank Zappa, in his most daring experiments, but also other musicians, purer in their jazz background, such as Davis, Coltrane, and even more Metheny, Di Meola and Mc Laughlin.

The climax of the evening, in my opinion, occurred with the performance of some songs by Dana Al Fardan, taken from the album “Tempest”, masterfully arranged, in the orchestration by Joris Laenen and for the choral part by Giovanni Pasini, who conducted the orchestra, the choir and all the other musicians present with authority and precision.

Special praise also deserves the violinist Anna Tifu (who carries on the musical legacy of Enzo Bosso), the pianist Andrea Granitzio and Gavino Murgia, with his incomparable sax.

The final pearl, as also underlined by director Pasini, was the singing performance of Alice Marras who ventured into “Andimironnai”, a traditional Sardinian song, accompanied by Anna Tifu on violin, Gavino Murgia on solo sax, Daniele Russo on solo drums and again by the sound stones of Maria Sciola, who did not make us regret the trite and hackneyed finals of the most classic of the year-end concerts.

A successful experiment therefore, both on a cultural and more purely musical level. a hope for a future of peace and brotherhood, through music.

In this sense, applause goes to superintendent Andrea Cigni who had the courage to break with tradition without forgetting that good music must still be conveyed with the right professionalism.

giovedì 2 ottobre 2025

The Dreamer


 https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CQDFK2JW


Chapter 1


«I will soon be back, make yourselves at home, please» - said the man going out. We looked at each other, George and I. It had only been from the morning that we didn’t have a chance to stay alone, however I swear that it seemed to me as if it was an eternity.

«That’s a real story of madness! » he burst out taking a seat in one of the four wood armchairs that were around a circular table in the center of the small room–«This man must be crazy! Let's put him off as soon as is back and let's escape from here, until we are in time»–he added while I was taking a seat in front of him.

«Just a moment, George, maybe it will seem strange to you, but I don't feel afraid of this man! He inspires a sort of trust in me, despite his strangeness».

«But do you realize what you are talking about? Have you gone out of sense too? This man must have some extraordinary powers: hasn't he hypnotized us just slightly before? Have you also heard him talk of super-races and brain's experiments or have I dreamed of it?», George attacked me nervously.



«Be quiet, please, George» - I told him in a calm voice. –«First of all, I don't believe he has hypnotized us, just before. Secondly, if he is really so powerful as you say, what could be his reaction, when we try to immobilize him? Make a point on it: when we arrived here, we were both sleepy. Therefore if he wanted to use us as guinea-pigs, two punctures were enough for him to knock us down! On the other hand I have not seen yet neither cats resembling mice, nor men with a square brain! Who can be sure that the old man is not inventing everything? It would not surprise me if this story derived from the imagination of some fantastical writer. I want to go to the end of all these circumstances. Don’t you also want to know what kind of job's proposal Mr Winningoes is going to make for us?»

George gazed for a long time into my eyes, thoughtfully. Then, without answering, he relaxed on the back of the chair, releasing the muscles and breathing deeply.

He stood with half open eyes crossing at once the feet and the hands softly on the womb, with the right hand covering the palm of the left one. He seemed to me almost slept, while only the breath animated his body.

Won by all those unexpected and subsequent emotions, I also imitated him doing my best on sitting comfortably on the wood ancient chair.

to be continued...






venerdì 5 settembre 2025

Echoes from a sad soul

 


https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0C8YY6R71

The poet’s claim

 

The lambs lie down on Westminster

sacrificed by the shot dead

priest of nothingness faith

pushed by madness

moved by hate

sent by pretending prophets

who now are cheering up 

for more victims

in the pantheon web

of foolishness.

 

But two faults

never can make a why,

and violence can never be justified

even if you had a reason

to be spent

 somewhere.

 

Men of power,

for the sake of the True 

Merciful God

of all humanity,

please, put apart all your selfishness

and hear the poor poet

claiming for justice

and give to every people

their own land.

venerdì 29 agosto 2025

Sparks of faith

 


 https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07JPK5MCD 

 Then came a Man

 

I remember when

at  winter solstice,

 we danced under the stars

to propitiate  favors by gods!

Then came a Man,

Son of the Only true God!


I still look at  skies 

when stars assemble in December!

 But now I know who to pray

for humanity's  weaknesses

and for the beauty of the world

I have someone to thank!

martedì 15 ottobre 2024

The Dreamer

 



https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CQDFK2JW

Chapter 2



In order to relax I recalled the preceding events, starting from the moment I had firstly met my friend George.

I had known him early in the summer 1979, in a little snack bar of the centre, in the beginning of my London stay. A snack-cafe not so far from Piccadilly Circus, where they made a slightly drinkable coffee. I used to go there, because it was the only place where the coffee was served in the small, classical, Italian cups, and even if it was served with no cream, was still better than that watered black soap that almost all barmen sell off for coffee in England.


The bar was housed in a large rectangular room. On the right of the entry there was the counter with the coffee-machine, while both on the left and the opposite wall, in front of the entry-door, there was a wood bench, lined in plastics of brown color, and, straight above, lined in the identical way, a same long but narrower shelf, plenty of sugar-bowls and ashtrays.


The left wall, for the whole length of the bench, beginning from the shelf and finishing to the originally white-painted ceiling, was made of a thick transparent glass that, giving brightness to the place, allowed the visitors to enjoy a wide outside sight where, just in front, it was well visible the entrance of a theatre with an ample and luxurious atrium.


It was there that George seemed to stare up his look, over the round glasses (like John Lennon’s, I had thought). His olive complexion, the chestnut hair and the black moustaches didn't make him certainly look like a probable Queen’s subject, but I questioned him, this not less, in English. Also because, after all we were in London. What other idiom was I supposed to speak?


He burst into laughter, hearing my question. Not immediately, but after turning his head to look at me, with a funny expression on his face, while with my hands I repeated my request for fire, rubbing, at the same time, my right forefinger on the palm of the left hand.


Lighting his own cigarette, as I stood close and steady, much more interdict than angry, because of his crazy laughing, he told me in a strongly stressed, though smooth, Italian language:


- «Sorry for laughing, but Italian people do make notice of them, when they speak English. You come from Rome, don’t you?» -, he suddenly added, smiling with satisfaction to my sad, affirmative answer.


The place, beside the two of us and a girl sitting on the other side of the bench, was empty. The barkeeper, behind the counter, was preparing a great copy of sandwiches, with cheese and tomatoes, lettuce and meats and a few others with all four ingredients together, according to the best English taste.


- «And you, where do you come from?» - I asked him in some annoyed tone for that reference to the Italian’s accent and particularly to that of the Romans, whose noble descendants I am still proud to belong.


-« I am not Italian» - he answered to me with peaceful voice «but I have lived quite a lot of years in Italy. So I know your customs quite well, and also your accent» -, concluded laughing again tastefully.


This time his laughing, however, didn't upset me at all. Those few words had been enough to make my anger fade away; or maybe I was just only glad to talk to someone without squeezing my brain to translate my thoughts from Italian into English language.

to be continued...



 

 

 

 

domenica 13 ottobre 2024

The Dreamer

 


https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CQDFK2JW

First Part

Chapter 1

 

«I will soon be back, make yourselves at home, please» said the man going out. We looked at each other, George and I. It had only been from the morning that we didn’t have a chance to stay on our own.


«That’s a real story of madness! » he burst out taking a seat in one of the four wood armchairs that were around a circular table in the center of the small room. «This man must be crazy! Let's put him off as soon as is back and let's escape from here, until we are in time», he added while I was taking a seat in front of him.

«Just a moment, George, maybe it will seem strange to you, but I don't feel afraid of this man! He inspires a sort of trust in me, despite his strangeness».


«But do you realize what you are talking about? Have you gone out of sense too? This man must have some extraordinary powers: hasn't he hypnotized us just slightly before? Have you also heard him talk of super-races and brain's experiments or have I dreamed of it?», George attacked me nervously.


«Be quiet, please, George», I told him in a calm voice. «First of all, I don't believe he has hypnotized us, just before. Secondly, if he is really so powerful as you say, what could be his reaction, when we try to immobilize him? Make a point on it:  when we arrived here, we were both sleepy. If he wanted therefore to use us as guinea-pigs, two punctures were enough for him to knock us down!  I have not seen yet neither cats resembling mice, nor men with a square brain!

 

 Who can be sure that the old man is not inventing everything? It would not surprise me if this story derived from the imagination of some fantastical writer. I want to go to the end of all these circumstances. Don’t you also want to know what kind of job's proposal Mr Winningoes is going to make for us?»


George gazed for a long time into my eyes, thoughtfully. Then, without answering, he relaxed on the back of the chair, releasing the muscles and breathing deeply.


He stood with half open eyes crossing at once the feet and the hands softly on the womb, with the right hand covering the palm of the left one. He seemed to me almost slept, while only the breath animated his body.


Won by all those unexpected and subsequent emotions, I also imitated him doing my best on sitting comfortably on the wood ancient chair.