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When I am silent …
I fall into that place …
Where everything is music …
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Archive for Silent
The Forgotten Name
“In a world unknown to me,
Where people have hundred faces,
With their small black and white horizons
And
Ice hearts;
I was called by my name, I kept quiet.
I was called by my ethnicity; I did not reply.
I was called by my race, I kept my silence …
…
I am waiting for the day that once again I would only be referred to as a
“Human being.””
Flo14wer
Dove
Autumn is my favorite season, It’s beautiful when leaves on trees and shrubs changing colour from green into shades of yellow, orange and red, nature look as if she is celebrating, and it’s amazing to watch the birds change colour and sometimes they fall from the trees.
An Injured Dove in My Hands
We found an injured bird on the ground; we gently picked up the bird and hold it firmly, then cleaned her feathers and gave her food. She was calmly looking at us; it was like she is saying: “ Be wise; soar not too high to fall; but stoop to rise because wisdom is often nearer when we stoop than when we soar. You should hold fast to your dreams, for without them life is a broken winged bird that cannot fly.” And indeed we should learn a lesson from the birds. They feed those who cannot fly far; they help and serve each other with no thought of reward.
Dove In My Hand ready to freely fly with silent and peacefully soaring in the clouds
When she was well enough, we let her go to freely fly with silent and peacefully soaring in the clouds …
I believe …
To accomplish great things,
we must not only act,
but also dream;
not only plan,
but also believe.
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L’Infinito – Infinity
Sempre caro mi fu quest’ermo colle,
E questa siepe, che da tanta parte
Dell’ultimo orizzonte il guardo esclude.
Ma sedendo e mirando, interminati
Spazi di là da quella, e sovrumani
Silenzi, e profondissima quiete
Io nel pensier mi fingo; ove per poco
Il cor non si spaura. E come il vento
Odo stormir tra queste piante, io quello
Infinito silenzio a questa voce
Vo comparando: e mi sovvien l’eterno,
E le morte stagioni, e la presente
E viva, e il suon di lei. Cosi tra questa
Immensita s’annega il pensier mio:
E il naufragar m’è dolce in questo mare.
Giacomo Leopardi
Always dear to me was this lonely hill,
And this hedge, which from me so great a part
Of the farthest horizon excludes the gaze.
But as I sit and watch, I invent in my mind
endless spaces beyond, and superhuman
silences, and profoundest quiet;
wherefore my heart
almost loses itself in fear. And as I hear the wind
rustle through these plants, I compare
that infinite silence to this voice:
and I recall to mind eternity,
And the dead seasons, and the one present
And alive, and the sound of it. So in this
Immensity my thinking drowns:
And to shipwreck is sweet for me in this sea.
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