"All this he saw, for one moment breathless and intense, vivid on the morning sky; and still, as he looked, he lived; and still, as he lived, he wondered."

Ode to the West Wind (cit.)

Ok, ho finito il vento del Sud… non è eccezionale, è abbastanza semplice. Domani farò la scansione, così potrò caricarlo sul sito. Per ora, niente.
Ho invece iniziato il vento dell’Ovest (il vagabondo). Tanto per cambiare non mi convince… ma giudicherete voi quando l’avrò finito. Intanto ho deciso che comporrò i tre A3 con i venti uno di seguito all’altro lasciando uno spazio di qualche centimetro, magari per una cornice o un fregio. Vorrei che ogni vento fosse incorniciato con un motivo stilizzato che si accordi a lui. Sotto, invece, voglio ridurre ad un fregio continuo le tre parti di Minas Tirith cui arrivano i venti: le mura, il cancello e la torre. Vorrei anche che da qualche parte ci fosse la scena dei tre – Aragorn, Gimli e Legolas – attorno alla barca in cui giace Boromir. Insomma, troppa roba per una mano sola. Soprattutto per una mano dilettante e poco dotata come la mia.
Intanto, il vento del nord ha una grande falce di luna dietro di sé e capelli scarmigliati, molto fluenti. Una veste cascante e stracciata (tutti e tre i venti hanno fattezze femminili ed il torso nudo, per la gioia dei maschietti). Ali che non so molto bene come renderò. So già che sarà un casino scrivere la strofa dove ho intenzione di metterla, e cioé in bianco sul cielo notturno.

Through Rohan over fen and field where the long grass grows
The West Wind comes walking, and about the walls it goes.
‘What news from the West, O wandering wind, do you bring to me tonight?
Have you seen Boromir the Tall by moon or by starlight?’
‘I saw him ride over seven streams, over waters wide and grey;
I saw him walk in empty lands, until he passed away
Into the shadows of the North. I saw him then no more.
The North Wind may have heard the horn of the son of Denethor.’
‘O Boromir! From the high walls westward I looked afar,
But you came not from the empty lands where no men are.’

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Bulgakov’s The Fatal Eggs

Mikhail Bulgakov (Kyiv, 1891–1940) was a novelist, playwright, and former physician, whom I’m sure you know for The Master and Margarita, published posthumously. His work blends sharp satire, fantasy, grotesque comedy, and moral seriousness, often targeting Soviet bureaucracy and ideological hypocrisy, but I had no

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2 Comments
  • piliaemmanuele
    Posted at 02:59h, 25 January Reply

    ciao, sono curioso di vedere i tuoi lavori…

    anche mi muovo nel campo della creatività, archituttura e desgn, se vuoi vedere qualcosa che ho fatto io basta che vieni nel mio blog…

    cmq veramente sono curioso di vedere i tuoi lavori…

  • brianzolitudine
    Posted at 08:38h, 25 January Reply

    Anch’io attendo di vedere. Curiosissimo.

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