Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.

Oscar Wilde

Mariah Carey - All I Want For Christmas Is You

pigna

Pigna is the name of rione IX of Rome. The name means "pine cone" in Italian, and the symbol for the rione is the colossal bronze pine cone, the Pigna, which once decorated a fountain in Ancient Rome next to a vast Temple of Isis. There water flowed copiously from the top of the pinecone. The Pigna was moved first to the old basilica of St. Peter's, where Dante saw it and employed it in the Commedia as asimile for the giant proportions of the face of Nimrod.^[1] In the 15th century it was moved to its current location, the upper end of Bramante's Cortile del Belvedere, which is now usually called in its honour the Cortile della Pigna, linking the Vaticanand the Palazzo del Belvedere. There it stands today underPirro Ligorio's vast niche at the far end, flanked by a pair of Roman bronze peacocks brought from Hadrian's mausoleum, the Castel Sant'Angelo.

The rione is centrally located in the Campus Martius area of ancient Rome. It is roughly square-shaped, extending from the Pantheon on its northwest corner to the Piazza Venezia on the southeast. This relatively small area contains numerous churches and palazzi.

ΤΟΥΣ ΠΗΡΕΣ ΣΟΒΑΡΑ | ΦΩΤΗΣ ΑΝΔΡΙΚΟΠΟΥΛΟΣ

τόσο πολύ σ' αγάπησα - Θανάσης Κωσταβάρας

Τόσο πολύ σ' αγάπησα
που πίστεψα πως είχα αγγίξει την αθωότητα.
Κι ενώ ήμουνα λύκος
ερχόμουν να γρατσουνήσω την πόρτα σου.
Να βγεις να μου ρίξεις έστω μόνο μια τρυφερή σου ματιά
και να βουρκώσουν από ευτυχία τα μάτια μου.

Τόσο πολύ σ' αγάπησα
που πίστεψα πως έγινα αόρατος.
Έγινα αέρας να βρίσκομαι πάντα κοντά σου.
Να σ' αγγίζω με τους θρύλους του δάσους
να σου περιγράφω τους ίσκιους της θάλασσας.
Και να σου φανερώνω τα λόγια
τα μαγικά λόγια που ζητάει για να ανοίξει ο Παράδεισος.

Τόσο πολύ σ' αγάπησα
που πίστεψα πως είμαι αθάνατος.
Πως κανένα χιόνι δεν μπορεί να μ' αγγίξει, κανένα σκοτάδι
κανένας φόβος του θανάτου
δεν μπορεί να περάσει απ' τη ζεστή μου καρδιά.

Έξω απ' το φόβο πως ίσως μια μέρα θα με ξεχάσεις.
Θα περάσεις πλάι μου σαν να μην υπήρξα, να μη σ' άγγιξα.
Να μην ήρθα κοντά σου, σαν ένα θρόισμα του δάσους,
σαν ένας αέρας
σαν ένας λύκος που δεν ζητάει τίποτ' άλλο
παρά μια τρυφερή σου ματιά.

Τόσο πολύ σ' αγάπησα.
Τόσο που πίστεψα πως μόνον όταν σε χάσω
τότε μόνον θα μπορέσει να μ' αγγίξει ο θάνατος.

Η ποίηση είν' ένα όπλο οπλισμένο με μέλλον, του Γκαμπριέλ Θελάγια

Όταν πια τίποτα δεν περιμένεις προσωπικά το συναρπαστικό
μα πάλλεσαι και συνεχίζεις πιο πέρα απ' τη γνώση,
θηριωδώς υπάρχοντας, τυφλά βεβαιωμένος,
σαν ένας παλμός που χτυπάει τα σκοτάδια

όταν κοιτάς απέναντι
τα καθαρά ιλιγγιώδη μάτια του θανάτου,
λέγονται οι αλήθειες:
οι βάρβαρες, τρομερές, αγαπημένες σκληρότητες.

Λέγονται τα ποιήματα
που ανοίγουν τα πνευμόνια τόσων, που σε ασφυξία,
ζητούν να υπάρξουν, ζητούν ρυθμό,
ζητάνε νόμο για εκείνο που νιώθουν υπερβολικό.

Με την ταχύτητα του ενστίκτου,
με την ακτίνα από το θαύμα,
σαν μαγική προφάνεια, μας γίνεται η πραγματικότητα
κάτι ταυτόσημο στον εαυτό του.

Ποίηση για το φτωχό, ποίηση αναγκαία
σαν το ψωμί της κάθε μέρας,
σαν τον αέρα που απαιτούμε δεκατρείς φορές το λεπτό
για να υπάρχουμε κι όσο υπάρχουμε να δίνουμε ένα ναι που δοξάζει.

Γιατί ζούμε με άλματα, γιατί μόλις μας αφήνουν
να πούμε πως είμαστε όποιοι είμαστε
τα τραγούδια μας δεν μπορούν να υπάρξουν χωρίς αμάρτημα στολίδι.
Πιάνουμε πάτο.

Καταριέμαι την ποίηση τη θεωρούμενη ως πολυτέλεια
πολιτιστική των ουδετέρων
που, πλέονοντας τα χερια, κάνουν τους άσχετους και αποφεύγουν.
Καταριέμαι την ποίηση εκείνου δεν πάιρνει θέση να μη λεκιαστεί.

Κάνω δικές μου τις ελλείψεις. Νιώθω σε μένα όσους υποφέρουν
και τραγουδώ ανασαίνοντας.
Τραγουδώ, τραγουδώ, και τραγουδώντας πιο πέρα από τα βάσανά μου
τα προσωπικά, διευρύνομαι.

Θα ήθελα ζωή να τους δώσω, να προκαλέσω νέα γεγονότα,
και υπολογίζω γι αυτό με τεχνική το τί μπορώ.
Νιώθω ένας μηχανικός του στίχου και εργάτης
που δουλεύει με άλλους την Ισπανία στ' ατσάλια της.

Τετοια είναι η ποίησή μου:ποίηση - εργαλείο
και ταυτόχρονα παλμός του ομόφωνου και τυφλού.
Τέτοια είναι, όπλο οπλισμένο από μέλλον εκτεινόμενο
και που σε σημαδέυω στο στήθος.

Δεν ειν' μια ποίηση σταγόνα τη σταγόνα προμελετημένη.
Δεν είναι προϊόν ωραίο. Δεν είναι καρπός τέλειος.
Είναι κάτι όπως ο αέρας που όλοι ανασαίνουμε
κι είναι το άσμα που πιάνει όσο χώρο έχουμε μέσα μας.

Είναι λέξεις που όλοι λέμε πάλι και πάλι νιώθωντας τες
σαν δικές μας, και πετάνε. Είναι περισσότερο απ' το λεγόμενο.
Είν' το πιο αναγκαίο: το που δεν έχει όνομα.
Είναι κραυγές στον ουρανό, στη γη είναι πράξεις.

μετάφραση Βασίλης Λαλιώτης

Norah Jones - Come Away With Me [Full Album]

ΑΝΘΡΩΠΟΙ ΜΟΝΑΧΟΙ-ΒΙΚΥ ΜΟΣΧΟΛΙΟΥ

The True Knowledge - Oscar Wilde

Thou knowest all- I seek in vain
What lands to till or sow with seed-
The land is black with briar and weed,
Nor cares for falling tears or rain.
Thou knowest all- I sit and wait
With blinded eyes and hands that fail,
Till the last lifting of the veil,
And the first opening of the gate.
Thou knowest all- I cannot see.
I trust I shall not live in vain,
I know that we shall meet again,
In some divine eternity.

the doer of good - Oscar Wilde

It was night-time and He was alone.

And He saw afar-off the walls of a round city and went towards the
city.

And when He came near He heard within the city the tread of the
feet of joy, and the laughter of the mouth of gladness and the loud
noise of many lutes. And He knocked at the gate and certain of the
gate-keepers opened to Him.

And He beheld a house that was of marble and had fair pillars of
marble before it. The pillars were hung with garlands, and within
and without there were torches of cedar. And He entered the house.

And when He had passed through the hall of chalcedony and the hall
of jasper, and reached the long hall of feasting, He saw lying on a
couch of sea-purple one whose hair was crowned with red roses and
whose lips were red with wine.

And He went behind him and touched him on the shoulder and said to
him, 'Why do you live like this?'

And the young man turned round and recognised Him, and made answer
and said, 'But I was a leper once, and you healed me. How else
should I live?'

And He passed out of the house and went again into the street.

And after a little while He saw one whose face and raiment were
painted and whose feet were shod with pearls. And behind her came,
slowly as a hunter, a young man who wore a cloak of two colours.
Now the face of the woman was as the fair face of an idol, and the
eyes of the young man were bright with lust.

And He followed swiftly and touched the hand of the young man and
said to him, 'Why do you look at this woman and in such wise?'

And the young man turned round and recognised Him and said, 'But I
was blind once, and you gave me sight. At what else should I
look?'

And He ran forward and touched the painted raiment of the woman and
said to her, 'Is there no other way in which to walk save the way
of sin?'

And the woman turned round and recognised Him, and laughed and
said, 'But you forgave me my sins, and the way is a pleasant way.'

And He passed out of the city.

And when He had passed out of the city He saw seated by the
roadside a young man who was weeping.

And He went towards him and touched the long locks of his hair and
said to him, 'Why are you weeping?'

And the young man looked up and recognised Him and made answer,
'But I was dead once, and you raised me from the dead. What else
should I do but weep?'

“We fear death, we shudder at life's instability, we grieve to see the flowers wilt again and again, and the leaves fall, and in our hearts we know that we, too, are transitory and will soon disappear. When artists create pictures and thinkers search for laws and formulate thoughts, it is in order to salvage something from the great dance of death, to make something last longer than we do.” 
― Hermann Hesse, Narcissus and Goldmund

the artist - Oscar Wilde

ONE evening there came into his soul the desire to fashion an image
of THE PLEASURE THAT ABIDETH FOR A MOMENT. And he went forth into
the world to look for bronze. For he could think only in bronze.

But all the bronze of the whole world had disappeared, nor anywhere
in the whole world was there any bronze to be found, save only the
bronze of the image of THE SORROW THAT ENDURETH FOR EVER.

Now this image he had himself, and with his own hands, fashioned,
and had set it on the tomb of the one thing he had loved in life.
On the tomb of the dead thing he had most loved had he set this
image of his own fashioning, that it might serve as a sign of the
love of man that dieth not, and a symbol of the sorrow of man that
endureth for ever. And in the whole world there was no other
bronze save the bronze of this image.

And he took the image he had fashioned, and set it in a great
furnace, and gave it to the fire.

And out of the bronze of the image of THE SORROW THAT ENDURETH FOR
EVER he fashioned an image of THE PLEASURE THAT ABIDETH FOR A
MOMENT.

Victor Noir

the disciple - Oscar Wilde

(σήμερα στην βόλτα μου βρήκα νάρκισσους και κίτρινο γιασεμί)


When Narcissus died the pool of his pleasure changed from a cup of
sweet waters into a cup of salt tears, and the Oreads came weeping
through the woodland that they might sing to the pool and give it
comfort.

And when they saw that the pool had changed from a cup of sweet
waters into a cup of salt tears, they loosened the green tresses of
their hair and cried to the pool and said, 'We do not wonder that
you should mourn in this manner for Narcissus, so beautiful was
he.'

'But was Narcissus beautiful?' said the pool.

'Who should know that better than you?' answered the Oreads. 'Us
did he ever pass by, but you he sought for, and would lie on your
banks and look down at you, and in the mirror of your waters he
would mirror his own beauty.'

And the pool answered, 'But I loved Narcissus because, as he lay on
my banks and looked down at me, in the mirror of his eyes I saw
ever my own beauty mirrored.'

amanti di Valdaro

Roma Bocca della Verità - S. Maria in Cosmedin

bocca della verita