by guido monte

i awake you, you mystery labyrinth
between empty rooms,
in the void, in hollow shades
through waters, agua that nets
and fecundates you misterio
of a nature-temple of vivants,
of tus ojos, una oscurità trasparente
not visible to tired eyes,
in his possible combinations...
only the sound of water
of eliot and basho
while similiter spirant omnia,
(the same breath is for everyone
all a part of the different
in the mismo soplo de vida
in its pristine face)

“ne pas chercher à comprendre”
because “hier ist kein warum”
they said to primo levi,
death arranges for spaces
of broken bodies
“and yes I said yes” james said,
inside the unending and
distort error of a fallen humanity,
under spaces of broken bodies,
is it possible également
the same dire oui à la vie?

And yet a forgotten way inside,
thereby we’ll go out to see the moon
word behind a word, full of tears
at a too high price.
and nothing be understood,
also if every man finds eternally au matin
between blocks of stones
following steps of fatigue
a time for everything of fatigue infinie
di fatica di vivere
e di vedere l’orrore effort to live
and see horror
and behind the world
before: ashabdham
silence in the mismo soplo de vida