Ho bisogno di vedere il sole, di sentire il caldo sul corpo, sulla pelle . . .
In the enduring trixiness of politicians’ wiles,
their innate corruptions exposing the blankness of their hearts.
Having sold their souls to the devil anything goes!
Of course for a short while they might (if the wind is in their favour) appear successful
Things might go well for them.
Ho bisogno di sentire il vento sulla faccia
Il verde argenteo del l’olivo che accende un fuoco.
in the mergen i was waecend by the sound of wind in the treows and a great wind it was blowan from a great height
blowan with the strength of thunor
this wind it mofd the great treows baec and forth
and the sound was griem to hiere.*
Imagine three people – it matters not as to gender
Young adults who set out on their paths in life.
One is concerned for the conditions in the world
For the impoverished and disadvantaged
For the life of the planet and all the richness thereon.
The next is concerned to lead an honourable life
Creating beauty and quality
And a home for family.
The third dreams of wealth and power
And its accumulation and is consequently prepared to do anything
To exploit the richness of fellow beings to that end.
Question: How do these three cohabit?
Perhaps it is necessarily impossible?
La discesa dalle colline
la strada tortuosa si attorciglia per sfuggire alle rocce, agli alberi
L’asfalto s’incrina e si tende
E poi improvvisamente sono tornato nella città.
*these few lines come from The Wake by Paul Kingsworth which was long listed for this year’s Booker and is a good read.
