Archive for Italiano

The power of the mind is our power, use it before it uses you …


Are we sincere to ourselves?

 Or are we living on other people’s expectations?

The most destructive weapon any person can impose on human being is their mind.

By hunting one’s fears, hesitance, suspicions, doubts and worries that already lurk there.

http://narges.eu/index.php/inspirational-words/mind-s-power

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La miglior arma che si può usare contro di noi è la nostra stessa mente, sfruttando i dubbi e le incertezze che vi si annidano.

Siamo sinceri con noi stessi, o viviamo per aspettative degli altri?

E se siamo leali e sinceri con gli altri … potremo mai essereamati veramente?

Troveremo il coraggio di rivelare i nostri più intimi segreti… o resteremo sempre degli sconosciuti, anche per noi stessi?

http://narges.eu

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Ālī Qāpū and in memory of a good friend


Iran - Isfahan

Ālī Qāpū is a grand palace in Isfahan, Iran. It is located on the western side of the Naghsh-i Jahan Square, and had been originally designed as a vast portal. It is forty-eight meters high and there are seven floors, each accessible by a difficult spiral staircase. In the sixth floor music room, deep circular niches are found in the walls, having not only aesthetic value, but also acoustic.

The name Ālī Qāpū, Turkic for “high gate”, was given to this place as it was right at the entrance to the Safavid palaces which stretched from the Maidan Naqsh-i-Jahan to the Chahār Bāgh Boulevard. The building, another wonderful Safavid edifice, was built by decree of Shah Abbas the Great in the early seventeenth century. It was here that the great monarch used to entertain noble visitors, and foreign ambassadors. Shah Abbas, here for the first time celebrated the Now – ruz (New Year’s Day) of 1006 AH / 1597 A.D. A large and massive rectangular structure, the Ālī Qāpū is 36 meters high and has six floors, fronted with a wide terrace whose ceiling is inlaid and supported by wooden columns.

Professor Eugenio Galdieri passed away suddenly yesterday, great architecture and a dear friend and amazing teacher. He was born in Naples, and graduated in Architecture at the University of Rome. He devoted himself almost entirely to the problems of conservation of monuments – in particular in Eastern European countries – and studies in Islamic architecture. From 1970 until 1979, he supervised, as scientific responsible, the entire program of study and conservation and restoration, conducted by the institute in Iran, Oman and Afghanistan.

Iran - Esfahan

In 1982 he received the “Aga Khan Award” for the restoration of Islamic monuments and a year later in 1983 he was appointed academic honor of the Florentine Academy of Arts and Design. In 1987 he became a member of the Societas Europaea Iranologica, Uppsala. Most of his research and work was preservation of monuments and history of architecture of Islamic countries.

Eugene Galdieri

May He Rest in Peace …

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Ecco mormorar l’onde


 Ecco mormorar l’onde,
E tremolar le fronde
A l’aura mattutina, e gli arboscelli,
E sovra i verdi rami i vaghi augelli
Cantar soavemente,
E rider l’Oriente;
Ecco già l’alba appare,
E si specchia nel mare,
E rasserena il cielo,
E le campagne imperla il dolce gelo,
E gli alti monti indora:
O bella e vaga Aurora,
L’aura è tua messaggera, e tu de l’aura
Ch’ogni arso cor ristaura.

Now the waves murmur
And the boughs and the shrubs tremble
in the morning breeze,
And on the green branches the pleasant birds
Sing softly
And the east smiles;
Now dawn already appears
And mirrors herself in the sea,
And makes the sky serene,
And the gentle frost impearls the fields
And gilds the high mountains:
O beautiful and gracious Aurora,
The breeze is your messenger, and you the breeze’s
Which revives each burnt-out heart.

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Uomo del mio tempo – War


Sei ancora quello della pietra e della fionda,
Uomo del mio tempo. Eri nella carlinga,
Con le ali maligne, le meridiane di morte,
-T’ho visto-dentro il carro di fuoco, alle forche,
Alle ruote di tortura. T’ho visto: eri tu,
Con la tua scienza esatta persuasa allo sterminio,
Senza amore, senza Cristo. Hai ucciso ancora,
Come sempre, come uccisero i padri, come uccisero
Gli animali che ti videro per la prima volta.
E questo sangue odora come nel giorno
Quando il fratello disse all’altro fratello:
“Andiamo ai campi.” E quell’eco fredda, tenace,
È giunta fino a te, dentro la tua giornata.
Dimenticate, o figli, le nuvole di sangue
Salite dalla terra, dimenticate i padri:
Le loro tombe affondano nella cenere,
Gli uccelli neri, il vento, coprono il loro cuore.

 

You are still the one with the stone and the sling,
Man of my time. You were in the cockpit,
With the malevolent wings, the meridians of death,
-I have seen you – in the chariot of fire, at the gallows,
At the wheels of torture. I have seen you: it was you,
With your exact science set on extermination,
Without love, without Christ. You have killed again,
As always, as your fathers killed,
as the animals killed that saw you for the first time.
And this blood smells as on the day
When one brother told the other brother:
“Let us go into the fields.” And that echo, chill, tenacious,
Has reached down to you, within your day.
Forgot, O sons, the clouds of blood
Risen from the earth, forget your fathers:
Their tombs sink down in ashes,
Black birds, the wind, cover their heart.

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Ed è subito sera


Ognuno sta solo sul cuor della terra
trafitto da un raggio di sole:
ed è subito sera.

Everyone stands alone at the heart of the Earth
transfixed by a ray of sunlight,
and suddenly it is evening.

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All’anima mia


 

Dell’inesausta tua miseria godi.
Tanto ti valga, anima mia, sapere;
sì che il tuo male, null’altro, ti giovi.

 

Umberto Saba
 

You delight in your unending misery.
Such, my soul, should be the worth of knowledge,
that your suffering alone should do you good.
 
Or is the self-deceived the lucky one?
He who cannot ever know himself
or the sentence of his condemnation?
 
 

 Still, my soul, you are magnaminous;
yet how you thrill to phantom opportunities,
and so are brought down by a faithless kiss.

To me my misery is a bright summer
day, where from high up I can make out
every facet, every detail of the world below.

Nothing is obscure to me; it’s all right there,
wherever my eye or my mind leads me.
My road is sad but brightened by the sun;

and everything on it, even shadow, is in light.

O forse avventurato è chi s’inganna?
né a se stesso scoprirsi ha in suo potere,
né mai la sua sentenza lo condanna?

Magnanima sei pure, anima nostra;
ma per quali non tuoi casi t’esalti,
sì che un bacio mentito indi ti prostra.

A me la mia miseria è un chiaro giorno
d’estate, quand’ogni aspetto dagli alti
luoghi discopro in ogni suo contomo.

Nulla m’è occulto; tutto è sì vicino
dove l’occhio o il pensiero mi conduce.
Triste ma sollegiato è il mio cammino;

e tutto in esso, fino l’ombra, è in luce.

O forse avventurato è chi s’inganna?
né a se stesso scoprirsi ha in suo potere,
né mai la sua sentenza lo condanna?

Magnanima sei pure, anima nostra;
ma per quali non tuoi casi t’esalti,
sì che un bacio mentito indi ti prostra.

A me la mia miseria è un chiaro giorno
d’estate, quand’ogni aspetto dagli alti
luoghi discopro in ogni suo contomo.

Nulla m’è occulto; tutto è sì vicino
dove l’occhio o il pensiero mi conduce.
Triste ma sollegiato è il mio cammino;

e tutto in esso, fino l’ombra, è in luce.

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Amare


Io m’aggio posto in core a Dio servire,
Com’io potesse gire in paradiso,
Al santo loco ch’aggio audito dire
U’si mantien sollazzo, gioco e riso.
Sanza mia donna non li voria gire,
Quella c’ha blonda testa e claro viso,
Chè sanza lei non poteria gaudire,
Estando da la mia donna diviso.
Ma non lo dico a tale intendimento,
Perch’io peccato ci volesse fare,
Se non veder lo suo bel portamento,
E lo bel viso e ‘l morbido a sguardare:
Chè lo mi teria in gran consolamento,
Veggendo la mia donna in ghioria stare.

Giàcumu da Lintini

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