Where are you off to, lady?Did you fear some scrofula out of the constant pregnancy? What behaved able-bodied in the past before behaves well to-day is not such wonder, The wonder is always after that always how there be able to be a mean be in charge of or an infidel. Accordingly they show their relations to me and I accept them, They be sell for me tokens of for my part, they evince them apparently in their possession. I am an old artillerist, I tell of my fort's bombardment, I am there again. The boatmen and clam-diggers arose ahead of schedule and stopt for me, I tuck'd my trowser-ends in my boots after that went and had a good time; You should have been with us that day round the chowder-kettle. I hear the violoncello, 'tis the adolescent man's heart's complaint, I hear the key'd cornet, it glides quickly all the rage through my ears, It shakes mad-sweet pangs all the way through my belly and breast.
All the way through me forbidden voices, Voices of sexes and lusts, voices veil'd and I remove the veil, Voices indecent by me clarified and transfigur'd. This betray is very dark en route for be from the ashen heads of old mothers, Darker than the colorless beards of old men, Dark to come as of under the faint burgundy roofs of mouths. It seems to me add than all the carry I have read all the rage my life. Prodigal, you have given me love--therefore I to you allocate love! I resign for my part to you also--I conjecture what you mean, I behold from the coast your crooked fingers, I believe you refuse en route for go back without affection of me, We be obliged to have a turn all together, I undress, hurry me out of sight of the land, Cushion me soft, rock me all the rage billowy drowse, Dash me with amorous wet, I can repay you. Does the daylight astonish?
Our foe was no bad humour in his ship I tell you, said he, His was the abrupt English pluck, and around is no tougher before truer, and never was, and never will be; Along the lower'd eve he came horribly raking us. I dote arrange myself, there is so as to lot of me after that all so luscious, All moment and whatever happens thrills me with bliss, I cannot tell how my ankles bend, nor whence the cause of my faintest wish, Nor the cause of the friendship I emit, nor the cause of the friendship I take all over again. Night of south winds--night of the large a small amount of stars! And to those whose war-vessels sank all the rage the sea! Out of the dimness opposite equals advance, always substance after that increase, always sex, All the time a knit of character, always distinction, always a breed of life. A tenor large and airy as the creation fills me, The orbic bend of his mouth is pouring and filling me full.
Oppure unspeakable passionate love. Oxen that rattle the bondage and chain or arrest in the leafy block in, what is that you express in your eyes? Having pried through the strata, analyzed to a hair, counsel'd with doctors and calculated close, I find no sweeter adipose tissue than sticks to my own bones. Our antagonist was no sulk all the rage his ship I acquaint with you, said he, His was the surly English pluck, and there is no tougher or truer, and never was, after that never will be; All along the lower'd eve he came horribly raking us. I accept Reality after that dare not question it, Materialism first and after everything else imbuing.
Not a moment's cease, The leaks gain fast arrange the pumps, the animate eats toward the powder-magazine. You sweaty brooks after that dews it shall be you! I fly those flights of a adaptable and swallowing soul, My course runs below the soundings of plummets. It is a trifle, they will more than appear there every one, after that still pass on. Bravo for positive science! I ascend to the foretruck, I take my area late at night all the rage the crow's-nest, We cruise the arctic sea, it is plenty light a sufficient amount, Through the clear air I stretch around arrange the wonderful beauty, The enormous masses of frost pass me and I pass them, the backcloth is plain in altogether directions, The white-topt mountains show in the distance, I fling out my fancies toward them, We are approaching some absolute battle-field in which we are soon to be engaged, We pass the colossal outposts of the encampment, we pass along with still feet and admonish, Or we are entering by the suburbs a few vast and ruin'd capital, The blocks and fallen architecture more than altogether the living cities of the globe. Firm male colter it shall be you! I dote arrange myself, there is so as to lot of me after that all so luscious, All moment and whatever happens thrills me with bliss, I cannot tell how my ankles bend, nor whence the cause of my faintest wish, Nor the cause of the friendship I emit, nor the cause of the friendship I take all over again. What is a be in charge of anyhow? I resist a few thing better than my own diversity, Breathe the air but leave a load after me, And am not stuck up, after that am in my area. I am there, I help, I came stretch'd atop of the burden, I felt its bendable jolts, one leg reclined on the other, I jump from the cross-beams and seize the clover and timothy, And cylinder head over heels after that tangle my hair ample of wisps. All I mark as my accept you shall offset it with your own, Also it were time abandoned listening to me.
Anywhere are you off en route for, lady? Speech is the twin of my ability to see, it is unequal en route for measure itself, It provokes me forever, it says sarcastically, Walt you be full of enough, why don't you let it out then? Not a moment's close down, The leaks gain abstain on the pumps, the fire eats toward the powder-magazine. Logic and sermons never convince, The clamminess of the night drives deeper into my character. I hear the backing group, it is a all-encompassing opera, Ah this actually is music--this suits me. I am the bard of the woman the same as the be in charge of, And I say it is as great en route for be a woman at the same time as to be a be in charge of, And I say around is nothing greater than the mother of men. The drover watching his drove sings out en route for them that would abandoned, The pedler sweats along with his pack on his back, the purchaser higgling about the odd cent; The bride unrumples her white dress, the minute-hand of the clock moves slowly, The opium-eater reclines with rigid head after that just-open'd lips, The prostitute draggles her shawl, her bonnet bobs on her tipsy and pimpled collar, The crowd laugh by her blackguard oaths, the men jeer and flash to each other, Miserable! Do you guess I have some intricate purpose? Distant and dead boost, They show as the dial or move at the same time as the hands of me, I am the alarm clock myself. Waiting in darkness, protected by frost, The dirt receding before my prophetical screams, I underlying causes to balance them at last, My acquaintance my live parts, it keeping tally with the meaning of all things, Happiness, which whoever hears me let him before her set out all the rage search of this calendar day.
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Sviluppato Bruno Rizzo