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Thursday, October 5, 2006

E` Gia` deciso


Another Full Moon, originally uploaded by Lachlan.

Looking through a rose scented box I came across a newspaper clipping with a poem my nona had written some time ago. The scent of roses stirred my memory of how much she had loved flowers and especially roses, geraniums and hydrangeas. Only now I found that she also loved writing poetry like I do. Some things will always stay with you; tokens from loved ones to remember them by. I thought I would share this poem with you. I’m afraid that I can only give you a few lines in translation....probably not the very exact meaning I'm afraid; sorry about that.

E` Gia` deciso

Accarezzato dal vento l'ultima foglia
dondla appesa ad un ramo sciupato
anche il sole incapace di ridarle vita e forza
morira` morira` senza dire no no
la natura condanna i suoi figli
ad un giorno continuo continuo eternamente
segnando la foglia mi vene voglia di urlare
tutta la sua crudelta` non piango
gli alberi muti e il loro sguardo verso il cielo
siamo noi i rebelli, piangono muoiono
gli umani vogliono essere presi nella
girandola dell'universo
tutto e` stabilito anche la nostra fine
allora allora io vorrei morire
insieme all'ultima foglia
del mio ultimo inverno.

Maria Lettieri
Genova


E` Gia` deciso {Its Already Decided}

Accarezzato dal vento l'ultima foglia {caressed by the wind, the last leaf}
dondla appesa ad un ramo sciupato{rocks hanging from a branch}
anche il sole incapace di ridarle vita e forza{ even the sun unable to give it life and strength}
morira` morira` senza dire no no {to die, die without saying no, no}
la natura condanna i suoi figli { nature sentences its sons}
ad un giorno continuo continuo eternamente{continuous, a continuous day eternally }
segnando la foglia mi vene voglia di urlare { marking the leaf I get the urge to scream}
tutta la sua crudelta` non piango { with all its cruelty I don’t cry}
gli alberi muti e il loro sguardo verso il cielo {the trees are speechless with their look towards the sky }
siamo noi i rebelli, piangono muoiono { it is us who are the rebels, crying, dying}
gli umani vogliono essere presi nella { humanity wants to be taken}
girandola dell'universo{on the carrousel of the universe}
tutto e` stabilito anche la nostra fine {everything is established even our own end}
allora allora io vorrei morire {then, then I want to die }
insieme all'ultima foglia{ together with the last leaf}
del mio ultimo inverno.{ of my last winter}

7 comments:

Jeanne said...

How talented.
Thanks for coming to visit and your lovely words.
Blessings of love and peace!

Annabelle said...

Nice to hear from you. Yes, she was very talented especially in her cooking.

Annabelle

Tongue in Cheek Antiques said...

This image is amazing and your poem goes beautifully with it...especially on this being a Harvest moon!

createacraft said...

the photo is fab.. but the poem.. depressive?? or do I feel so..

Annabelle said...

Hi Pinar,
Sorry about that. I tend to enjoy sad and joyous poems and stories; to me it is all part of living. The poem I posted with the moon maybe is more to your liking; hope you enjoy it.
Annabelle

Anonymous said...

How I wish I had poetry written by my Grandmother!
She sounds like a sensitive soul, such poignant words, seeing beauty in the end of life ~ both in nature and possibly her own.
And accepting that it is all preordained.

Annabelle said...

Hi Sheila,

I’m glad to meet you as well. The church picture is just wonderful. Even if you missed out on your name being put on the plaque still you were christened there…quite a connection to that picture I would say. It’s late but I want to answer the gals that wrote back but I do believe it’s your post where the vicar had that saying about four wheelers…anyway I loved it and got a chuckle. The Bella Luna was a struggle to paint to say the least. I don’t paint or draw…I’m terrible at it but I fell in love with a card and I tried to recreate in a larger format. The lips drove me crazy but in the end I was quite satisfied. I’ll have to try another some day. You surprised me how well you understand Italian…maybe your name has something to do with it? Will keep in touch, bye

Annabelle

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MIDNIGHT MARGARITAS
A place for keeping my art in larger formats

*** Sir Arthur Conan Doyle ***

*** Sir Arthur Conan Doyle ***
“Where there is no imagination there is no horror”. Arthur Conan Doyle, Sr.

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~ Annabelle

Twilight at Sea


The Twilight Hours like birds flew by,
As lightly and as free;
Ten thousand stars were in the sky,
Ten Thousand on the sea;
For every wave with dimpled face,
That leaped upon the air,
Had caught a star in its embrace,
And held it trembling there.

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