Onde. Come metafore certo, ma prima di tutto come immagini stratificate, ricorrenti, fluide. Ecco un piccolo album dall’Egeo. Con un commento d’eccezione, che trascrivo come un continuum rompendone la metrica per rispetto e timore, oltre che per rafforzare l’immagine dell’andare e del tornare, dell’infrangersi e del rinascere. Se proprio non puoi la vita che vorresti, lascia che le onde ti avvolgano. Senza che ti portino via. Ma soprattutto ascoltale. Non stancarti mai di interpretarne le voci.

The strong shore is my beloved / And I am his sweetheart. / We are at last united by love, and / Then the moon draws me from him. / I go to him in haste and depart / Reluctantly, with many / Little farewells. / I steal swiftly from behind the / Blue horizon to cast the silver of / My foam upon the gold of his sand, and / We blend in melted brilliance. / I quench his thirst and submerge his / Heart; he softens my voice and subdues / My temper. / At dawn I recite the rules of love upon / His ears, and he embraces me longingly. / At eventide I sing to him the song of / Hope, and then print smooth hisses upon / His face; I am swift and fearful, but he / Is quiet, patient, and thoughtful. His / Broad bosom soothes my restlessness. / As the tide comes we caress each other, / When it withdraws, I drop to his feet in / Prayer. / Many times have I danced around mermaids / As they rose from the depths and rested / Upon my crest to watch the stars; / Many times have I heard lovers complain / Of their smallness, and I helped them to sigh. / Many times have I teased the great rocks / And fondled them with a smile, but never / Have I received laughter from them; / Many times have I lifted drowning souls / And carried them tenderly to my beloved / Shore. He gives them strength as he / Takes mine. / Many times have I stolen gems from the / Depths and presented them to my beloved / Shore. He takes them in silence, but still / I give fro he welcomes me ever. / In the heaviness of night, when all / Creatures seek the ghost of Slumber, I / Sit up, singing at one time and sighing / At another. I am awake always. / Alas! Sleeplessness has weakened me! / But I am a lover, and the truth of love / Is strong. / I may be weary, but I shall never die. [Kahil Gibran]

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