19 Febbraio 2009 – Primo spettacolo della rassegna
“Much of the Soul they talk, but all awry;
And in themselves seek virtue; and to themselves
All glory arrogate, to God give none;
Rather accuse him under usual names,
Fortune and Fate, as one regardless quite
Of mortal things. Who, therefore, seeks in these
True wisdom finds her not, or, by delusion
Far worse, her false resemblance only meets,
An empty cloud. However, many books,
Wise men have said, are wearisome; who reads
Incessantly, and to his reading brings not
A spirit and judgment equal or superior,
(And what he brings what needs he elsewhere seek?)
Uncertain and unsettled still remains,
Deep-versed in books and shallow in himself,
Crude or intoxicate, collecting toys
And trifles for choice matters, worth a sponge,
As children gathering pebbles on the shore.”
Paradise Regained: The Fourth Book, John Milton
Quando per i viziosi l’alba bianca e vermiglia
coi morsi dell’Ideale si confonde,
nel letargo del bruto, vendetta misteriosa!
un angelo si desta.
Quell’uomo prostrato ancora sogna e soffre,
e a lui s’apre, remoto e tentatore,
dei Cieli dello Spirito l’azzurro precipizio.
Così di te, puro, lucido Essere, mia Dea.
sulle macerie delle orge insipide
il ricordo più chiaro, più bello, più rosato
nei miei occhi si libra senza fine.
Al sole che annerisce le candele,
all’immortale sole, o risplendente
anima, trionfale, il tuo spettro somiglia!
Charles Baudelaire, I fiori del male, XLVI – L’aube spirituelle
Affacciato sul precipizio del cielo, in attesa di una possibilità di spiccare il volo. Verso il balzo.
“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.”
Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken
(Le altre foto della manifestazione)
vencido!
