- Voice -

Dall'ultima volta che ci siamo tenuti stretti

che abbiamo bisbigliato parole al mattino

che ci siamo presi in giro, col piacere di conoscerci bene,

da allora

abbiamo cambiato forma e pensieri ogni giorno.

Abbiamo cambiato batticuori, obiettivi, luoghi,

la nostra vicinanza ad alcuni ricordi piuttosto che ad altri,

e le parole da dirci e non dirci.

Eppure li' in fondo,

un'impronta e' rimasta sempre la stessa.

E' il colore della tua voce, quel colore che esiste solo per me in quel modo,

perche' e' cosi' come io la ascolto,

e che sara' sempre uguale e immutabile:

L'anima che non si chiede ancora se ha perdonato o meno,

se e' stata perdonata o meno,

scatta all'improvviso in piedi quando ti sente,

e ti viene incontro.

La mia anima ti riconosce dentro di se'

e dice senza proferir parola
"ah, qui eri!"

Qui sono.

MC




Since the last time we held  each other tight
that we whispered words in the morning
that we teased ourselves, with the pleasure of knowing each other well,
since then
we have daily changed shape and thoughts.

We have changed heart beats, aims, places,
our closeness to some memories rather than others,
changed the words to tell each other and the ones to not tell.

Yet in the background,
a trace has remained still the same.

It is the color of your voice, that tone that exists only for me in that peculiar way,
because that's how I hear it,
and thus will always be, immutable.

The soul that does not ask itself whether it has forgiven or not,
if it was forgiven or not,
instantly stands up when hears you
and comes to meet you.

My soul acknowledges you within itself
and says in unspoken words
"ah, you were here!"

Here I am.

MC

Life is something that happens to me.

Life is something that happens to me.
It's something that falls from the sky like this rain, which I cannot avoid. 
It slides quickly away like a landscape in a train window.
Life is made of pictures gone. 
I like to assume I can control things, but I can't. 
I can just use passion in all things I do, in all my attempts. 
I can just fall and stand up again, again, again.. 
wondering the reason of all this, the reason for gaining a position in the world...
while... 
Life is something that happens to me.

M.C. 29/03/2018

La vita è qualcosa che mi succede.
È qualcosa che cade dal cielo come questa pioggia, che non posso evitare.
Scivola rapidamente via come un paesaggio nel finestrino di un treno.
La vita è fatta di immagini sparite.
Mi piace pensare di poter controllare le cose, ma non posso.
Posso solo metter passione in tutte le cose che faccio, in tutti i miei tentativi.
Posso solo cadere e alzarmi di nuovo, ancora, e ancora ..
chiedendomi il motivo di tutto questo, la ragione per ottenere una posizione nel mondo ...
mentre...

La vita è qualcosa che mi succede.

M.C. 29/03/2018

FLYER'S PRAYER

Ho sempre pensato che chi ama il cielo, con la sua presenza benedice la terra. Chi è nato di aria, ispira agli altri libertà e senso dell’avventura. Così è senz’altro per Richard Bach, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry e Angelo D’Arrigo. Ho trovato questa poesia, e mi sembra bellissima.

FLYER'S PRAYER

When this life I'm in is done,

And at the gates I stand,

My hope is that I answer all

His questions on command.

I doubt He'll ask me of my fame,

Or all the things I knew, Instead,

He'll ask of rainbows sent

On rainy days I flew.

The hours logged, the status reached,

The ratings will not matter.

He'll ask me if I saw the rays

And how He made them scatter.

Or what about the droplets clear,

I spread across your screen?

And did you see the twinkling eyes.

If student pilots keen?

The way your heart jumped in your chest,

That special solo day-

Did you take time to thank the one

Who fell along the way?

Remember how the runway lights

Looked one night long ago

When you were lost and found your way,

And how-you still dont know?

How fast, how far, how much, how high?

He'll ask me not these things

But did I take the time to watch

The Moonbeams wash my wings?

And did you see the patchwork fields

And mountains I did mould;

The mirrored lakes and velvet hills,

Of these did I behold?

The wind he flung along my wings,

On final almost stalled.

And did I know I it was His name,

That I so fearfully called?

And when the goals are reached at last,

When all the flyings done,

I'll answer Him with no regret-

Indeed, I had some fun.

So when these things are asked of me,

And I can reach no higher,

My prayer this day - His hand extends

To welcome home a Flyer.

Patrick J. Phillips