Saturday, March 12, 2011

Suave Shampoos Msds Sheet

Il partigiano Luciano


Albert Anker
.
Abstract
.

Luciano for his teammates, sixth to the registry, and my father died too soon and too young. I remember his face, double-barreled shotgun, the stories of the mountain, the story of nights spent in the open, when, along with a partisan shot Slavic taken a column of Germans in the process of capturing a group of fighters left trapped in the Black River where it opens and leaves the forest. Un fatto realmente accaduto.

Albert Anker

.

“Vado” disse al padre Stefano “ vado con i partigiani”
. Le mani smisero di accarezzare il legno e lentamente ripose la sgorbia ; un silenzio assordante avvolse la bottega , i trucioli sparsi sul pavimento, i mobili in attesa, l’odore delle colle, le tavole accatastate di legno asciutto, stagionato.
Muti i macchinari respirarono il silenzio .
.
Lentamente alzò gli occhi di un azzurro bagnato, impastato dagli anni e guardò il figlio, l’ultimo maschio rimasto, gli altri dispersi e non sapeva dove; quel figlio avuto in vecchiaia , il più amato…
.
Non c’era altro da fare e lo sapeva ma come fai a staccarti da un figlio, il solo in grado di proseguire l’impresa che faticosamente avevi realizzato..
Una vita spesa per costruire, riparare mobili, sedie, tavoli.
I primi apprendisti da guidare, il lavoro che cresce, la prima esposizione, i clienti che aumentano ma sei solo . Resisti perché hai un figlio, intelligente, istruito, capace.
Puoi fidarti e allora attendi.
.
Due sono gone missing, disappeared along the years of war, the war that had been hated. Socialist
the first hour had remained faithful to its ideals. Had not consented to fascism and had remained calm .. aside.
. The remaining properties resumed
hands caressing the wood.
imagined the curve and the depth of carving. Shooting the scrawl.
.
"there is nothing else to do," he said and added, "you know nothing of war: be careful! "
drawing the curve and a chip fell on the floor ...

Renoir
.
Adolescence and youth gathering in the decision.
him, with the Nazis - would not go fascist.
He spoke with friends, had said to Emma, \u200b\u200bthe girl he loved and the priest.
"Don Franco, with those I do not go" and the poor priest, in desperation, he nodded.
was also his fault that guys like Luciano hated the fascists, the war, that war, the racial laws, the meetings and hypocrisy ocean of words, many who heard as: "Winning!" Winning what? He missed freedom, the possibility of dissent, to propose, to express their thoughts.

They refused membership in the lonely crowd cheering and submissive. A
idea of \u200b\u200bthe inevitable fate to which the whole nation had voted.
And destiny, that destiny based on bayonets was rapidly maturing into a catastrophe.
No, he did not intend to answer the call to arms. Better
the mountain, the woods. ... Armed struggle against the Nazi-Fascists.

the axle is a thrill thinking of battle, the dead to life taken or left.
Emma hugged, shook her again and again.
He filled the eyes of his, stroked her long brown hair, Emma cried his 16 years and those who wanted to go with him ...
Renoir

He left at dawn on a September day. The comrades, some were already gone. I think I get
Gavelli, the headquarters of the partisan, with a day's march.
reached the crest of the mountain overlooking the city ... ... back to the Valley of blurred white transparencies ... .... Autumn began to play with the colors and the wood of Licinius evergreen.
eyes dipped into the valley and the city clinging to the hill, the summer's events, ... ... .... to braid her brunette Emma had melted for him.
Un profumo dolcissimo invase la mente.
Raccolse i pensieri, le emozioni e riprese a salire verso Patrico lungo sentieri che conosceva lontano dai villini e dai casolari.
Andava verso i monti più alti dell’Appennino , lo zaino leggero sulle spalle , la roncola e un bastone per sostenere i passi, le salite e le discese.
Non aveva armi tranne la roncola e un coltello a serramanico.
Le armi erano sul posto.
Le avevano trafugate con vari colpi di mano dalle caserme di Spoleto, complici alcuni militari in servizio ed erano state portate, di notte, a dorso di mulo fino a Gavelli.
Stavolta non andava a funghi o a caccia di selvaggina ma verso un futuro ignoto …di lotta….. un futuro di libertà … he said to himself .... to be built along with its Emma. It was to cross the Black
where a pole thrown between the banks and a rope stretched between two trees allowed to reach the other side and not be seen.
knew then and the surrounding woods.



"You know nothing of war: be careful! "
The warning sounded in the mind of the father and the accompanying steps, thoughts.
Who could have known him twenty years of war.
was fascinated by the stories del genero, un piemontese figlio di militari che la guerra, la grande guerra l’aveva fatta.
Lui, giovane tenente degli alpini era dove i monti sono più alti e il nemico davanti, sull’altra cima uniti dal freddo di quell’ultimo inverno.
C’era stata la disfatta e nessuno sapeva cosa bisognava fare, se andare in soccorso o restare dove faticosamente erano giunti.
Rimase a difesa dei passi del Pasubio, delle piccole Dolomiti.
Attacchi e contrattacchi e restare vivo.
Un giorno scese e risali la montagna e la successiva e quella più avanti perché a valle, finalmente, avevano sfondato le linee nemiche.
Andò avanti, attacchi e contrattacchi poi solo avanti al comando della compagnia, di quello che restava perché il capitano era morto, ucciso all’alba di un mattino e non seppe mai della vittoria.



Era rimasto affascinato da quei racconti ma ora che c’era , che toccava a lui, figlio di un falegname, saliva e scendeva con rabbia i suoi monti .. non c’era altro da fare … .

In città , nelle riunioni clandestine, ne avevano discusso insieme agli ufficiali.
La loro, quella partigiana non era una guerra di posizione … dovevano attaccare e scomparire; occupare il territorio, rendere insicure le strade, impraticabili i boschi, le comunicazioni.
Non era una guerra di posizione ma un mordi e fuggi….. piccoli gruppi sparsi nei punti nevralgici.
Azioni di sabotaggio di impianti, di ponti, e vie di fuga tracciate nella mente .
Niente attacchi e contrattacchi lungo i pendii tortuosi dell’Appennino ma nascondigli protetti dal fitto della boscaglia e caverne nei dirupi montani per fare sosta e ripartire.
La loro era una guerra d’attesa.
Gli alleati erano sbarcati a Salerno …. Bisognava occupare il territorio, renderlo insicuro e attendere...






Prese il Scheggino path that descends to the Valley and Black.
crossed the Black and the uphill stretch that precedes the trail, a winding trail that climbs and fast through the woods and plains before the passage of Terminaccio.
He measured the distance, the distances, the midday sun.
The moisture of the earth accompanied the ascent to the turbulent Valley Gavelli that one side looks at the Mount of the host and the other the mass of Coscerno with its rocky sides, rugged, stony canyons of corrugated.
"This" thought "is my new home."
early Autumn, short, long and hard winters, heavy snowfall, forced isolamenti.In distant sound of bells told the presence of grazing on the high seas .... saw Chianina cows that drink in a natural lake carved out from the sky dotted with clouds. To the north
raining.
walked faster.
He thought of Emma, \u200b\u200bhow it would be nice to have with him, her brown braid.
In the distance, beautiful but fragile down the rainbow.
The god of the mountain he would aiutati.Finalmente was in sight of the fortified castle clinging to a spur of Coscerno overlooking the Moat, Castle Gavelli and homes that put downward slope just below. ..


The captain called Ivan and Luciano, a Slavic escaped from a concentration camp Colfiorito.
"I have a task for you," he said "you have to watch the mule track that goes from Scheggino ..."
took the map and pointed to the area
"You're hiding and avoid the Germans, it is important" and added "we are organizing the escape of the British and Slavic prisoners in Spoleto. ... you need to check the driveway and the mule track and protect their arrival, "They went to
Sant'Anatolia Narco looking for the right place ... they found a side road and very close to the trail, the ideal position to control both roads.
chose a safe place protected from the bush and forest.
tried the escape route, the route that would follow in case of attack.
"Let's build a shed," Ivan suggested.
"How did you end up here," said Luciano
"War! I entered the Faculty of Philosophy in Belgrade when the Germans invaded. I reached the Yugoslav resistance ... and here I am ... ... "
... ... Luciano feel, we should put a cloth camouflage on the roof ... the risk of rain"
"Okay ... put a towel covered with green branches"
".... I I said, when action has been captured by the Italians .. "
" What you have interned in Italy than in Germany. We have it good "
" I went with Tito to fight the Nazis .... Since then I have no news of my family, my father and my mother, my sisters .... do not know that I'm alive "
" Damn it! "
sigheretta trembled, fell, dropped his eyes to resume
" Damn Nazis! "Rabid
a branch cut with a sickle and then another ..." ... Damn Germans! "
He put his back against a tree, slid down the trunk, crouched ... looked at the shed and that horrible war, the days which succeeded, the war that they were being mangled in the most horrible of ways.
There was nothing else to do but the war to avoid being swept away .... and go home.
The darkness overtook them.
faster through the bushes and hid the highest branches, went down the logs, wrapped them up.
the road disappeared and the plateau that precedeva.Entrarono in the shed. Luciano
hung a lantern acetylene, lit.
prepared the stove alcol.Sistemarono weapons and backpacks.
They had water, bread, some potatoes and sausages.
Slavic threw a potato into the water and herbs that had gathered down da Gavelli...
.
*******
.
Il freddo umido, bagnato, sempre più gelido, attraversò la coperta di lana, i vestiti e non riusci a dormire.. …..… i pensieri raccolsero il respiro del bosco, le ore, il silenzio .
Era la sua prima notte da combattente partigiano ed altre ne sarebbero venute, diverse, peggiori di quella. Pensò all’inverno e alla neve che sempre cadeva abbondante.
Come avrebbero fatto a resistere lui e il fratello che aveva trovato, quello slavo così diverso da lui, così lontano dalla sua terra… che combatteva la stessa guerra per restare vivo, libero, in un paese libero …. sentimenti mai vissuti agitavano la mente per quello stare there, in that eerie silence.
was there and wanted, tried ... had sought, war .... to escape from the youth refused to resume the life he wanted to have.
Dawn was breaking.
She could not stand that cold and decided to start a fire to warm his hands.
A small fire and drink a mess of barley hot, hot.
"You could not sleep ... .. you think? "Asked Ivan
" I do not know. .... For everything. It's a little 'feel like dying ... ... this expectation, the beauty of the mountains, thinking of the family, Emma ... "
" Fear? ... ... .. .. you want to do .. give it won ? are murderers! "
" It is not fear, but something different comes along, suddenly ... I do not know what it is.
Maybe it's anxiety, something I had never tried it ... a little 'feel like dying ... ... .. For what could happen ... the battle .. defend and take life of another and you do, be able to do so as not to lose yours or that of your fellow ... .... You must defend yourself and kill .... not to lose yours, the ones you love .. Emma the waiting, my father, who relies on my help, my mother is waiting for the missing children and can not find peace ... .. . mates as we went up on these mountains ... "
" I tried the same your feelings, "said Ivan.
"Thoughts come alone ... and you can not stop ... do not you die ... .. you think and your heart beats inside ... I feel ... feel the thoughts that come to die alone and no peace ... and scared. "
" The war will end. The Americans are at Salerno, not far away .... Think about this ... think about your ... Emma .. the future that awaits you ... "
" Time! .... Yesterday I went out with mates and now they are here, armed, ready to defend these mountains and the future that I have. "
" Shut up! "He paused
silence.
The morning breeze gently, lightly, the first leaves of autumn, the autumn was silent.
"Turn off the fire ... .. soon! "
noise of trucks braking, entries that cut the air like arrows, the breeze again, stronger ... and imperious waves his woods.
"We have seen ...! ".
.
.
The church bells were beating the morning when the battle began.
The rattle of a machine gun hit the woods.
had been identified. Responded with a volley of rifle fire while keeping an eye on the side left, where the trees are more dense, the way chosen to disappear.
They had tried the action, the tactics to be followed in case of confrontation with the Germans.
They had tried the route of escape.
began to move quickly from one tree to another, along a long-imagined, experienced, forward, backward, short stops and on, on.
charged during the race ...
decided to return fire to warn the others, those on the lookout between Scheggino and chisel and give them time to find shelter and prepare for confrontation.
loaded and moved to shoot and give the enemy the idea of \u200b\u200ba large group in a fan. Forward, forward and back, separated each other along the imaginary line and tested in the days of rest, from tree to tree, loading and firing.
lasted a long battle then silence.
decided to break away not to be bypassed and trapped ... they decided to cut to the river where the rocks and cliffs provide a dominant position and easy hiding places.
went down fast towards the river, touched the town, a shed and then down to the rocks and the cliff where the river narrows and you see the bend in the road and the bridge crossing.
down when the Slav now that the deck was visible and the road.
A German truck followed by a larger vehicle had stopped the Germans descended from the truck.
Uno di questi, pistola in mano cominciò a sparare ad un ragazzo che correva lungo il ponte .
Correva il ragazzo e il tedesco sparava quando dal bosco tagliato un gruppo di partigiani provenienti da Fionchi aprì il fuoco.
Una mossa avventata perché subito dal camion la mitragliatrice cominciò a battere il terreno.
Si rifugiarono dietro una carbonaia composta ma non ancora arsa , bloccati dal fuoco nemico, ormai persi.
I tedeschi, quelli della camionetta e quelli scesi dall’automezzo cominciarono ad avanzare. Erano persi.
Il bosco tagliato non offriva ripari ; solo la carbonaia ma nulla potevano contro il numero, le armi automatiche e la mitragliatrice che batteva il terreno.
Avevano perso la speranza when from the left, the spot above the rocks and cliffs a large fire of musketry swept the enemy forcing them to retreat quickly to the truck.
had fallen quickly, the partisan Luciano and slave, to that vantage point, near the rocks and in deep, well above the road and the bridge over the Black.
more fires Caught between the Germans fled precipitately ..
.
.
remained in the area. The order was to await the arrival of Slavic prisoners escaping from prison in Spoleto. The order was accompanied to the mountains of Gavelli the 94 escapees.
They spent that night and the following hiding in the thick rough boscaglia.Le nights between 10 and 14 October 1943 (continued)

***
(sixth to the registrar, Luciano for his teammates, the Partisan Luciano was my Father. The facts are that the story really happened and some the protagonists are still alive)



Friday, March 11, 2011

Caught A Fake Driving Licence

SOME 'LATE




TARDI MA ECCOMI A POSTARE QUALCHE FOTO DELLE DECORAZIONI CARNEVALESCHE CHE ABBIAMO FATTO.

Friday, March 4, 2011

Calculate Bmi For Dogs

Ewa Lipska - Manifesto


Jan Vermeer - The Milkmaid



Goddess of Earth unite!
Create a party that has heart and liver,

that protect the milkman at five in the morning through
all'alba la nebbia
cantando canzoni di libertà.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Fish Tank Ornamets For A Large Tank

Cade l'aquilone all'incrocio dei venti


Una foto,
immagine del demone che nutre
e divora questo nostro tempo
fissa gli artigli del niente,
descrive l’abisso ...
Cade l’aquilone all’incrocio dei venti.

Rivedo l’attimo ed io che esco nel bosco...
muti alberi che piangono,
sentieri che fuggono in cerca di un’ oasi,
rabbia impotente, tristezza. ..
rumori di guerre lontane, ora vicine,
più vicine, bussano all’uscio dei giorni.

(Giovenale Nino Sassi)




Saturday, February 26, 2011

Acne And Perimenopause

LA SPIGOLATRICE DI SAPRI



The bass Sapri
(Mercantini Louis, 1857)


were three hundred, they were young and strong, and they died!
I was going in the morning to glean,
when I saw a boat in the sea:
was a boat that was going to steam
and raised a tricolor flag, the island of Ponza
has stopped, was
a little, and then returned;
has run and came back to earth;
went down with their arms, and we have not made war.

went down with their arms, and we did not do war, but
s'inchinaron to kiss the ground,
looked at them one by one in the face;
all had a tear and a smile. Li said they
thieves out of their holes,
but not carried away even a bread
and heard them send a single cry: We have come to die
PEL our shore. "

With blue eyes and golden hair
with a young man walking ahead of them.
I made bold and took him by the hand,
asked, "Where are you going, handsome captain?"
He looked at me and said, "O my sister,
'm going to die for my country better."
I felt all my heart tremble, nor
I could say, "V'aiuti 'the Lord!"

Quel giorno mi scordai di spigolare,
e dietro a loro mi misi ad andare.
Due volte si scontrar con li gendarmi,
e l'una e l'altra li spogliar dell'armi;
ma quando fur della Certosa ai muri,
s'udirono a suonar trombe e tamburi;
e tra 'l fumo e gli spari e le scintille
piombaro loro addosso più di mille.

Eran trecento, e non voller fuggire;
parean tremila e vollero morire;
ma vollero morir col ferro in mano,
e avanti a lor correa sangue il piano:
fin che pugnar vid'io per lor pregai;
ma un tratto venni men, né più guardai;
io non vedeva più fra mezzo a loro
quegli occhi azzurri e quei capelli d'oro.

were three hundred, they were young and strong, and they died!




Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Ecstasy And Brain Hemorrhage

LIBIA

Chagall - Ulysses


We have the ability, unique in this selfish and sick time, to bring hope, friendship, tolerance, future men and women who are victims of the wars that now more and more devastated the boundaries of the West.

affects us!

We have the opportunity to earn the confidence of people too Long restricted in the absence of freedom.
We have the opportunity to develop policies, bold and bright.
We can dispel fear and overcome anything that is around the
days ... We can see another, different from us in an opportunity ....
We have the chance to drive the recommencement of work and the economy
We have the opportunity to rediscover the benefits of solidarity among men

We can rediscover everything that is really true, good, fair, then that is all ... what is really nice

Colorado Felons Hunting

PRIZE!




Ne sono stata davvero felice,grazie ancora.
Passo a mia volta il premio a:
http://www.tempodicottura.it/ Natalia thanks for your wonderful recipes

http://www.mammafelice.it/ Barbara thanks for the beautiful things that we hear daily

http://mammapaperasblog.blogspot.com/ thanks Mammapapera because every day you tell us a little about yourself

http://cioccomamma.blogspot.com/ thanks for the valuable advice

http://zuccherando.blogspot.com/ Francesca thanks for your

delights

LEAVE THE LIST OF RULES

accept the award and write a post on

Pass it to 3-5 bloggers who want to know and tell the award winning

Link the post to the person who sent it to you

THANKS !!!!!

Monday, February 21, 2011

Jack In The Box Commercial What College

Eccomi quì !


Here I am,
head consumed by twenty
the warmth of a fireplace burning thoughts. Words like smoke

looking at the sky. The young

studies and prepare the future
For what, has lost its meaning.
not raise the curtains, there is no better ...


One generation has given and then removed.

Nothing more ...
in the hands of economists
what remains of the failures.

red geraniums
On the windowsills of the house in ruins ...
The jew singing at sunset
the land along the
Limat in some Tea Room in Zurich.

''Wenn Rufe ich, erhòre mich, Gott, du mein Retter
Du hast mir gescaffen Raum, als mir angst war
You gnàdig mir, und auf mein Flehen hor!

''Sing now the Arab
along the alleys of the city that tells history
stones raised, slaughtered and again raised
as bastions and towers on the hill. You

dirge of colors, almost a lament
and not mine.
The girl wears a headscarf.

I fought waving the sword ...


GSN ...

To interpret and tell myself I choose Vincent van Gogh .... Portrait of Dr. Gachet (1890)
To tell our confused and uncertain time I chose a beautiful painting by Hieronymus Bosch ... The Ship of Fools ...

.... Ship of Fools is a satirical work published in 1494 in Basel by Sebastian Brant, a conservative German theologian. (Der Narrenspiegel, das groß Narrenschiff).
are those of Brant, confused and uncertain years following introduction of major changes.
It 's the time of Erasmus of Rotterdam and the famous In Praise of Folly

About the madness and the Ship of Fools Michel Foucault writes ...
"Because you see a sudden rise in the shape of the ship of fools, and his insane crew invades the most familiar landscapes? Because water from the old alliance with the madness, was born a day, and that very day, this boat?

[...]

Insanity and the insane become important figures in their ambiguity: menace and mockery, dizzying unreason of the world, ridiculous and petty men. "




Friday, February 18, 2011

Locking Up Snowboards

Francesco Gaeta





Yes, I leave the old walls, where
a bit 'of my heart with a tender longing

remain attached

And I'll leave that lasts even
Spring,
between the feast of the swallows and the dismal evening
charity.

goodbye So, if the sunset, where
fire, butterfly
on your yellow wall, an extreme beam
dies;

cards with flowers, where the footprint of each painting

known friend and puts his Talking empty
who can not even fade;

hollow rooms, hence the unusual step
alarm boomy
grass roof where pigeons from resting
vol;

e tu ancora, che dal sasso
esci, trepida lucerta,
a la loggia ormai deserta
che d’asfalto odora al sol.

Or, se qui svolga la vita
Senza me le sue vicende,
altra casa non m’attende,
non mi chiama, aprica, a sé ?

Ma una parte ahimé svanita
Dei miei giorni è qui sepolta.
Vecchie mura, qualche volta
Ricordatevi di me.


***

La situazione is very simple: there is a traslco.

A man in leaving the house where he lived for a long, lingering look at those old walls in his family. The memories invade the soul along with a moment of sadness that everyone in similar situations, may have tried. The lyrics could easily fall into sdolcinatura formal or relaxed, yielding to the temptation of tearful regret, the insistence of the minute description. The poet instead keeps the tone of lyrical tenderness measured on a plan of redeeming the banality of the references in realistic dignity of a literary vocabulary and constructs its pouring ... in the sweet melancholy of the music that pervades the verses. Francesco Gaeta is a Neapolitan poet born in 1879, who committed suicide in 1927. Critics described him as a poet of transition from pasture to twilight. On the first approach for the strong sense of mystery, death and pain; other for the tone of the arguments and dismissed the taste of realistic scenes of everyday life. dominant motif of the poetry of Gaeta is what Cross has called''the love of love'' ; An unfulfilled need of sweetness that is inserted in the bottom of his gloomy pessimism

Francesco Flora Gaeta called''a grim, say even a tragic spirit in search of happiness'' .



Henry Wallis.
THE Twilight in short

E' un movimento poetico che, nato nei primi anni del Novecento, volle reagire alla clamorosa e ostentata retorica dannunziana.

Alla base della lirica dei crepuscolari c'è il disperato bisogno di parlare di sé, di confessarsi, ma in forma di colloquio più che di canto ... preferiscono i toni smorzati e dimessi, le forme discorsive, i ritmi facili e un vocabolario volutamente povero fatto di parole quotidiane e banali

Sempre preoccupati and afraid to force his voice, loved the twilight irony also seek further protection against the risk of sentimentality too explicit.

The favorite themes were the feelings common objects and everyday things, states of mind wrapped in a gray tired and lethargic, resignation from the soft shades and uncertain as those in the twilight .... hence the name given to the movement .

The crepuscular that one side is linked to certain ways of grazing languidly caressing and more pathetic, he felt the influence of the similar French and Flemish poetry (Samain, Maeterlinck, Verlaine, Laforgue ).... represents then a stage of progress of poetic taste and is rightly seen as a lyrical form of modern ones Pascoli and D'Annunzio.

it's also credited with having created new rhythms and metrical rhythm, new attitudes of language which will build the later writers

The largest of our representatives are crepuscular Guido Gozzano, Marino Moretti and Sergio Corazzini


henry wallis



Di Gaeta, Aldo de Gioia (pedagogical, historical, Neapolitan poet) writes ..... Gaeta

The poet does not deserve the twilight

Repubblica — 26 gennaio 2010 pagina 1 sezione: NAPOLI


TRA i poeti napoletani tra l' 800 e il ' 900 è l' unico ricordato dalla Treccani come poeta in versi "italiani". Francesco Gaeta è stato un grande crepuscolare del primo Novecento, eppure dimenticato, soprattutto nella sua città. Qualche giorno fa ne discutevo con le signore Pina e Susi Savarese, nipoti di Gaeta, che hanno osservato come la fatica di scrivere una storia generale della letteratura italiana per chiunque voglia cimentarsi, non può non tener conto degli infiniti punti sparsi di storie biografiche. E tra queste la vita e l' opera di Francesco Gaeta. Le nipoti vorrebbe creare in sua memoria una fondazionee io ho il dovere to understand, in the gray culture of our time, if there 's intention to support somewhere in this city' s initiative. In my research I often met Francesco Gaeta, especially following studies Alda Croce, daughter of Frank, perhaps the first to discover the talent of the poet. Who distinguished himself among the poets connected with the tradition of Italian poetry, though not unrelated to 'influence the experience of contemporary literature. In his life, had a long and fruitful literary activity which consisted of a stable disposition to seize the most diverse and contradictory aspects of life. anificando conventions, prejudices, appearances and stereotypes of society in the early twentieth century. Approached to the various literary experiences of that time always treating them in a position of freedom and originality. For this reason, you can register in the course of his artistic attitudes characteristic of various literary moments, especially in the twilight for his congenial disposition to melancholy that often appears in the vision of things, men of 'friendship, of family affection and of 'love. Intense was his activity which is expressed in a variety of reasons in a relentless experimentation with themes and forms. He wrote important works: "The Book of Youth" (1895), "Songs of Freedom" (1902), 'The literary Italian d' aujourd 'hui "(1904)," voluptuous Sonnets "(1906), "Poesie d' amore" (1920), "Novelle gioconde"(1921) e tante altre cose. Insieme a Silvio Novaro si collocò nell' importante corrente di poesia che prese il nome di "Crepuscolarismo" il cui vocabolo fu suggerito da un recensione di Giuseppe Antonio Borghese pubblicata in un quotidiano del 1910 con raccolte di versi di tre poeti: Mario Moretti, Fausto Maria Martini e Carlo Chiaves. Pur senza dare al "Crepuscolarismo" un valore dispregiativo, Borghese lo adattò metaforicamente: identificava quei poeti come epigoni della grande stagione poetica italiana da Parini a D' Annunzio. Scriveva Borghese: «La poesia italiana si spegne in un mite e lunghissimo crepuscolo cui forse non seguirà la notte». Successivamente Guido Gozzano fu riconosciuto as the "master" and the most authentic representative of the "C repuscolarismo, but Francesco Gaeta is yet to be discovered through the 'careful analysis of its sources and its texts to which I am dedicated. When I was a member of the commission could be place names, thanks to Arturo Fratta Vajra and Max, to name a street near Piazza Carlo III. He was born in Naples in 1879 and here he committed suicide in 1927, in his own home in Via Pontecorvo number 6 in the heart of the city when his mom died. His pain was so great that not survived. He left a note on which he wrote: "My sweet mother follow you ...". -

Thursday, February 17, 2011

How Long Does A 98 Mustang Last

Ungaretti … il periodo milanese II

Man walking in the desert (Marinella Albora)
.
Ungaretti writes:

' ' I was born at the edge of the desert and the mirage of the desert is the first sense of my poetry ... ..
It 's the desert the first stimulus, the initial stimulus, the stimulus that movement followed by the poem that can also express a different reality, a reality fertile, but still leaving from this nothing, nothing from this and from this feeling of this as not based on anything that the illusions that lead to perdition.
''


The twelve poems of the Milan period
published in the journal gradually Lacerba''futurist''close the experimental phase of his work more closely and predict a long, successful poetic adventure.

''Agony,''
in nine verses that encloses the burning desert and its mirages also contains a plan of life and poetry ....

die like the larks on the looming thirsty

O such as quail
past the bushes in the early sea

because of flying
no longer want to live But

moan like a goldfinch blinded


'' May Night''
where it emerges as a dense city in the heart of childhood ....

The sky puts on the part of the minarets

garlands of lights


'' Silence'' ,

where the memory of his native city Alexandria lost for ever and ever found by poetry, becomes the expression of a nostalgic return to a city suspended a radiant sunshine that the poet has left a summer evening, seeing it vanish like lights in a last embrace.


a city I know that every day was filled with the sun and everything is
kidnapped
at the time I left one evening lasted
In the heart of the cicadas Limio

From
painted ship di bianco
ho visto
la mia città sparire
lasciando
un poco
un abbraccio di lumi nell’aria torbida
sospesi.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Has Anyone Used Nisim?

Edgar Lee Masters - Il violinista Jones



La terra emana una vibrazione
là nel tuo cuore, e quello sei tu.
E se la gente scopre che sai suonare,
ebbene, suonare ti tocca per tutta la vita.
Che cosa vedi, un raccolto di trifoglio?
O un prato da attraversare per arrivare the river?
The wind in the corn; you
you rub your hands for the oxen are now ready for market;
or hear the rustle of skirts.
Like the girls when dancing at Little Grove.
To Cooney Potter a pillar of dust or
whirling leaves meant ruinous drought;
looked to me like Sammy Testarossa
who danced to the tune of Toor-a-Loor.
How could I till my forty acres
not to mention getting more,
with a medley of horns, bassoons and piccolos Stirred in my brain
by
crows and robins And the creak of a wind mill - only these?
And I never started to plow in my life
without someone stopped on the street
and take me away to a dance or picnic.
I ended up with forty acres;
I ended up with a broken fiddle -
And a broken laugh, and a thousand memories,
and not a single regret.
.
.
.
The painting by Marc Chagall .....
Chagall in his work was inspired by the everyday life of European Russia and drew several biblical episodes that reflect his Jewish culture. In the sixties and seventies, he oversaw large-scale projects involving public areas and important religious and civic buildings.

Chagall's works fit into several categories of contemporary art in Paris took part in the movements that preceded
the First World War and was involved in avant-garde. However, it remained on the margins of these movements, including Cubism and Fauvism. It was very close to the Paris School and its exponents, such as Amedeo Modigliani.

His paintings are full of references to his childhood, although often preferred to forget the bad times. He was able to communicate happiness and optimism through the choice of colors bright and shiny. Chagall's world was colored, as if seen through a glass window of a church.

Marc Chagall was too busy to see Mailart book "The recovery of the memory of Eraldo Di Vita Milanese.
(Source Wikipedia)

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Emily Dickinson .... Bussava il vento .....


knocked the wind like a tired man. I
, hostess,
"Come in" I told him bold, and then went to my room


a guest fast, without feet:
tell him to sit
would be as absurd as to offer an armchair
air.

It was boneless, and therefore elusive.
His speech was like the wicked
of birds without number, which they sang together in a bush
heavenly.

His face was a wave, to move his fingers

let out a sound, like
tremulous breath on glass.

Always moving gave me his visit;
and then, shyly,
knocked again - with excitement -
and I found myself alone.



The Dickinson is a poet are extraordinary ... his extraordinary sense of nature, his ability to distill "an amazing sense of ordinary meanings and essences of species so huge family, "the evocation of metaphors and symbols without affectation or research of the effect.

The language of Dickinson is harsh, terse, elliptical, but an unparalleled intensity, and never as in this case the translation is to betray the letter to try to get closer to the vibrating core and index of verses.



The paintings are of IMAN MALEK


Biographical

Iman Maleki was born in Tehran in 1976. Attracted by a very young age, he began painting at the age of 15 years, under the leadership of its first and one teacher, Morteza Katouzian, considered the greatest realist painter of Iran.
His works are characterized by an extraordinary realism, expressiveness clear, without veils, which takes a look almost photographic in its country, now celebrating its glorious past, now capturing moments of everyday life today.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Ipod Touch Screen Protector Types

END OF VALENTINE




It 's been too S. Valentino, now we will prepare for the carnival ....

Monday, February 14, 2011

Sudden Onset Motion Sickness

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!











Congratulations to all those who love ......




Amo immensamente mio marito,i miei figli,adoro la mia mamma,il mio papà,mia zia,mio nonno e la mia adorata nonna che non c'è più.




GRAZIE PER L'IMMENSO AMORE CHE MI DATE E CHE CI DATE.

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Turtle Eye Infection Medication

Quousque tandem abutere, Catilina, patientia nostra?... Questioni di ieri e di oggi


Cicerone, the Oration against Catiline ....

long, O Catiline, continue to abuse our patience?
How long will your crazy behavior will mock us?
To what extent this will trigger your rashness that knows no restraint?

Do not make any impression they reinforced the department that oversees the Palatine at night, or patrols carrying out patrol in the city, nor the anxious concern of the people, nor the rush to agree with all good citizens, or here so well fortified for the seat of the senate, nor the expression of the face of these?
not you realize that your plots are known?
not you see that your conspiracy, as it is known by all present, it is now kept strictly under control?
of us, in your opinion, please ignore what you did last night and the previous one, where have you been, who have gathered here, that decision did you get?


[ .... .... .... ] ….. tu sei stato capace non solo di non tenere in nessun conto ne leggi ne giustizia, ma pure di sovvertirle e distruggerle. Ora, i tuoi misfatti precedenti, per quanto assolutamente insopportabili, pure li ho sopportati così come ho potuto; ma che adesso io debba vivere ….. nel terrore solo per causa tua, che ad ogni stormir di foglia si debba temer Catilina, che evidentemente non sia possibile ordire nessuna trama ai miei danni che sia indipendente dalla tua delittuosa attività, questo è assolutamente insopportabile.

Vattene dunque e liberami da questo timore: per non soccombere, se è fondato; per cessare una buona volta per tutte di temere, se è privo di qualunque fondamento.