bugs

ever have the feeling that a song penetrated your mind and is now playing uninterrupted in your mind?

and if that is a message from someone who wanted us to think of that song?

swallows

Ti vorrei,ti vorrei 
come sempre ti vorrei 
notte farà,mi penserai 
ma tu che ne sai dei sogni 
quelli son miei, non li vendo 
Che ne sai,che ne sai 
chissà che mi scriverai 
forse un addio,o forse no 
ma tu che ne sai dei sogni... 
Nonostante tu sia la mia rondine 
andata via,sei il mio volo a metà 
sei il mio passo nel vuoto 
Dove sei,dove sei 
Dove sei,dove sei dove sei 
Unico amore che...rivivrei 
sai di vento del Nord 
sai di buono ma non di noi 
stessa luna a metà 
sei nel cielo sbagliato... 
Non lo so,non lo so 
quanto tempo ammazzerò 
mio libro mio,non ti leggerò 
baciandoti sulla bocca... 
lo scriverò un altra volta... 

I want you,  I want you, 
As always I want you. 
The night will come, you will think of me. 
But what do you know about dreams: 
those are mine, I do not sell them. 
What do you know, what do you know? 
Who knows what you'll write me: 
perhaps a farewell, or maybe not. 
But what do you know about dreams... 
Although you are my swallow 
gone away, you are my half flight, 
you are my step into emptiness. 
Where are you, where are you? 
Where are you, where are you, where are you?
Unique love which I'd live again 
You taste like the North wind, 
you taste good, but not of us. 
Same half-moon, 
you're in the wrong sky. 
I do not know, I do not know 
how much time I will spend,

my book, I won't read you, 
by kissing your mouth ... 
I'll write it again ... 

mamma

did u ever have the sensation that your is the best mum in the world? and that your family is the greatest luck of your life?

I do!

Mamma, son tanto felice
perché ritorno da te.
La mia canzone ti dice
ch'è il più bel sogno per me!
Mamma son tanto felice...
Viver lontano perché?

Mamma, solo per te la mia canzone vola,
mamma, sarai con me, tu non sarai più sola!
Quanto ti voglio bene!
Queste parole d'amore che ti sospira il mio cuore
forse non s'usano più,
mamma!,
ma la canzone mia più bella sei tu!
Sei tu la vita
e per la vita non ti lascio mai più!

Sento la mano tua stanca:
cerca i miei riccioli d'or.
Sento, e la voce ti manca,
la ninna nanna d'allor.
Oggi la testa tua bianca
io voglio stringere al cuor.

Mamma, solo per te la mia canzone vola,
mamma, sarai con me, tu non sarai più sola!
Quanto ti voglio bene!
Queste parole d'amore che ti sospira il mio cuore
forse non s'usano più,
mamma!,
ma la canzone mia più bella sei tu!
Sei tu la vita
e per la vita non ti lascio mai più!
Mamma... mai più!

Mom, I'm so happy 
because I come back to you. 
My song tells you 
which it is the most beautiful dream for me! 
Mom, I'm so happy ... 
Living far away, why? 

Mom, only for you my song is flying, 
Mom, you will be with me, you will no longer be alone! 
How much I love you! 
These words of love which my heart whispers to you
perhaps are out of fashion... 
Mom!
but my best song is you! 
You're the life 
and all life long I will not leave you again! 

I feel your tired hand 
searching for my golden curls. 
I hear, and your voice is fading away, 
the lullaby you used to sing me. 
Today your white head 
I want to hug near my heart. 

L'abitudine

Talvolta mi chiedo come mai il mio paese "stagna". Come mai abbiamo una politica malata.

le ragioni sono ovviamente tante. ma credo che uno dei fattori e' che siamo diventati tutti un po' passivi. Le notizie dei nostri giornali sono sempre simili da 15 anni. cio' che fa il cavaliere non ci stupisce piu'. Chi lo ha sempre votato continua a sostenerlo per partito preso e vice versa si comporta chi non lo vorrebbe al potere.

C'e' da sperare che un giorno cambino gli attori della nostra politica e le idee. Come e quando non so. ma lo spero. 

will I be good?

that I would be good even if I did nothing
that I would be good even if I got the thumbs down
that I would be good if I got and stayed sick
that I would be good even if I gained ten pounds

that I would be fine even if I went bankrupt
that I would be good if I lost my hair and my youth
that I would be great if I was no longer queen
that I would be grand if I was not all knowing

that I would be loved even when I numb myself
that I would be good even when I am overwhelmed
that I would be loved even when I was fuming
that I would be good even if I was clingy

that I would be good even if I lost sanity
that I would be good
whether with or without you

anniversaries 2

I didn't hear you leave 
I wonder how am I still here 
And I don't want to move a thing 
It might change my memory 


Oh I am what I am 
I do what I want 
But I can't hide 


And I won't go 
I won't sleep 
I can't breathe 
Until you're resting here with me 


And I won't leave 
I can't hide 
I cannot be 
Until you're resting here with me 


I don't want to call my friends 
For they might wake me from this dream 
And I can't leave this bed 
Risk forgetting all that's been 

anniversaries

For what it's worth,
it was worth all the while.

It's something unpredictable
but in the end it's right.
I hope you had the time of your life.

dada-umpa

The 1st DADA Manifesto: 
By Monsieur Antipyrine.

DADA is our intensity: it erects inconsequential bayonets and the Sumatral head of German babies; Dada is life with neither bedroom slippers nor parallels; it is against and for unity and definately against the future; we are wise enough to know that our brains are going to become flabby cushions, that our anti-dogmatism is as exclusive as a civil servant, and that we cry liberty but are not free; a severe necessity with entire discipline nor morals and that we spit on humanity.

DADA remains within the framework of European weaknesses, it's still shit, but from now on we want to shit in different colours so as to adorn the zoo of art with all the flags of all the consulates.

We are circus ringmasters and we can be found whistling amongst the winds of fairgrounds, in convents, prostitutions, theatres, realities, feelings, restaurants, ohoho, bang bang.

We declare that the motor car is a feeling that has cosseted us quite enough in the dilatoriness of its abstractions, as have transatlantic liners, noises and ideas. And while we put on a show of being facile, we are actually searching for the central essence of things, and are pleased if we can hide it; we have no wish to count the windows of the marvellous elite, for DADA doesn't exist for anyone, and we want everyone to understand this. This is Dada's balcony, I assure you. From there you can hear all the military marches, and come down cleaving the air like a seraph landing in a public baths to piss and understand the parable.

DADA is neither madness, nor wisdom, nor irony, look at me, dear bourgeois.

Art used to be a game of nuts in May, children would go gathering words that had a final ring, then they would exude, shout out the verse, and dress it up in dolls' bootees, and the verse became a queen in order to die a little, and the queen became a sardine, and the children ran hither and yon, unseen... Then came the great ambassadors of feeling, who yelled historically in chorus:

Psychology Psychology hee hee

Science Science Science

Long live France

We are not naive

We are successive

We are exclusive

We are not simpletons

and we are perfectly capable of an intelligent discussion.

Be we, DADA, don't agree with them, for art isn't serious, I assure you, and if we reveal the crime so as to show that we are learned denunciators, it's to please you, dear audience, I assure you, and I adore you.

how to show friendship

Andò in cucina, pensando alle buone maniere, all'amicizia e al modo in cui le lettere, e i regali, erano le uniche tracce rimaste di ritualità nei rapporti con gli amici. Altre culture avevano forme molto più elaborate per onorare e coltivare le amicizie. In Sudamerica, aveva letto, due uomini che diventavano amici potevano essere sottoposti a una sorta di cerimonia battesimale davanti a un tronco d'albero, diventando entrambi simbolicamente figliocci dell'albero, e perciò fratelli l'uno per l'altro. Era un'usanza strana, e noi eravamo semplicmeente troppo occupati per organizzare cerimonie del genere: era più facile incontrarsi per un caffè.

Alexander McCall Smith, Amici, amanti, cioccolato