Poem
Paolo Ruffilli
VIDEO
Yes, the wonderful coloursof video,
the pleasant random choosing,
sipping, savoring
the flavour of soft dessert.
Grasping life
seasoned before,
pre-chewed and digested like this.
Surrendering to the game
of statues, to the neutral glossy
motion
in which
nothing really exists any more,
at a distance
that entertains
only for that little bit
that one is touched by it.
The same prearranged fantasy,
outside itself, hatched,
hypnotized, melted down.
The water
is held back no longer
it’s a surge that floods, drowns,
swallows you down.
© Translation: 2006, James Laughlin
From: Like it or no
From: Like it or no
Video
Video
Sì, la splendida cromiadel video,
il dolce stare alla ventura
a prendere, sorbire, a degustare
i morbidi dessert.
A cogliersi la vita
già condita,
così, premasticata e digerita.
Per consegnarsi al gioco
delle pose, al neutro moto
patinato
in cui
più niente esiste veramente,
in una lontananza
che intrattiene
ma per quel tanto solo
che uno sia sfiorato.
La stessa predisposta fantasia,
fuori di sé, covata
si ipnotizza, si dissolve.
Più non trattiene
l’acqua
è un fiotto che dilaga
che affoga, che si ingoia.
© 1987, Paolo Ruffilli
From: Piccola colazione
Publisher: Garzanti,
From: Piccola colazione
Publisher: Garzanti,
Poems
Poems of Paolo Ruffilli
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VIDEO
Yes, the wonderful coloursof video,
the pleasant random choosing,
sipping, savoring
the flavour of soft dessert.
Grasping life
seasoned before,
pre-chewed and digested like this.
Surrendering to the game
of statues, to the neutral glossy
motion
in which
nothing really exists any more,
at a distance
that entertains
only for that little bit
that one is touched by it.
The same prearranged fantasy,
outside itself, hatched,
hypnotized, melted down.
The water
is held back no longer
it’s a surge that floods, drowns,
swallows you down.
© 2006, James Laughlin
From: Like it or no
From: Like it or no
VIDEO
Yes, the wonderful coloursof video,
the pleasant random choosing,
sipping, savoring
the flavour of soft dessert.
Grasping life
seasoned before,
pre-chewed and digested like this.
Surrendering to the game
of statues, to the neutral glossy
motion
in which
nothing really exists any more,
at a distance
that entertains
only for that little bit
that one is touched by it.
The same prearranged fantasy,
outside itself, hatched,
hypnotized, melted down.
The water
is held back no longer
it’s a surge that floods, drowns,
swallows you down.
© 2006, James Laughlin
From: Like it or no
From: Like it or no
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