Aeronwy Thomas, Dylan Thomas, Gianpiero Actis, Immagine & poesia, Lidia Chiarelli

Aeronwy Thomas:

Aeronwy Thomas, photo by  Martin Holroyd (Wikipedia)

AERONWY THOMAS:

BEYOND THE TEXT – HOW TO ENHANCE DYLAN THOMAS’ WORK

            Music has been much used in Shakespeare’s works so why not Dylan Thomas’?

             I will try to make an incomplete but impassioned case why music and poetry including poetic prose as used in my father’s play for voices, Under Milk Wood, can well do without the addition of music.  My suffering in this regard should prove part of the case.

            Ever since I returned to England in 1970, I have been approached by modern composers to listen to Fern Hill or more obscure poems arranged to music.  My first experience was to be approached by an earnest American graduate who wished to use “If my head hurt a hair’s foot” in an original musical composition, using the words as a loose lyric for the music.  In those early days returning from a long stay in Italy, I must have been somewhat naïve.  I agreed to accompany him to the recording studio where his pre-recorded composition was overlain somehow onto a reading of the poem.  Last minute, I was informed that the reader would be me and requested a moment to look at the poem.  A more obscure poem about a child’s fear of causing his mother pain in birth could not have been chosen from my father’s poems.  For me the meaning was almost impenetrable at such short notice so that I must have read it clearly but without understanding.  This was no problem as the music was dominant and drowned the words effectively.  The young artistic entrepreneur then revealed his plan.  Because I had read the poem no royalties would be expected as a beneficiary.  The reason that poem and a couple more had been chosen for the recording was that it was little known to the general public and therefore doubly immune to the payment of royalties.  In any case, the young man told me, he’d spent his last dollars on the recording and was sleeping on friends’ sofas as a result.  I had a sinking feeling that this sort of situation was going to be inevitable now that I was living in London and not in faraway Sicily or even Rome.  Cheap flights to these destinations were still to happen in the future.

     My foreboding was increased when asked to read “Fern Hill” at a public function for the Welsh Development Corporation.  It would take place at the Hilton and feature clog dancing and harp playing which made me slightly uneasy.  However, the fee of £30.00 was an inducement and I turned up in a long cotton Laura Ashley dress and a copy of Dylan’s Selected Poems.  Immediately before I closed the evening with my reading, a band of merry clog dancers filled the floor and skilfully demonstrated how you can dance in uncomfortable wooden shoes.  I would have to change the mood skilfully  and dreaded being helped by the except the harpist.  I was lucky that time as the harpist topped and tailed by did not over-ride the poem with a tinkling waterfall of background musak.

    That occasion kick started my own poetry performance career and I was asked by any number of different organisations to give a reading of my father’s poems. Included were literary festivals and groups as well as entertainment spots at art galleries or even book launches of biographies about my father.  My constant dread was to be requested (after all the arrangements had been made) would I mind a quiet musical accompaniment as I read

the poems.  My fear was often justified as three piece flautists or recorders drowned the words.  By the end, I had to ask that the musical interludes were just that… a musical item between not during poems.  Nowadays, unless it is a reading abroad with translations so that Fern Hill can take 10 minutes to read with its translation, I insist the music is kept to three slots: beginning, interval and end.

     Under Milk Wood, a play to be heard – but mostly seen, integrates songs into the text with words by my father and music by his friend, Swansea composer Dan Jones. These seem to work very well and give a little break from the richness of the text in so much that the words are song-like in scansion and use simple, often childlike words.  The director Michael Bogdanov was the first to add Welsh folk songs for the glee party mentioned in the play to great effect.  Nearly all the productions I see nowadays include additional music such as the UMW Jazz suite by  Stan Tracey directed by Malcolm Taylor, a veteran of these productions, played as the audience settles itself and during the interval.  These productions I can only recommend but I have also suffered all singing and all dancing(the expression used by one of the performers of Under Milk Wood. On a slightly higher level one hopes, The Welsh National Opera has also approached the literary trustees to sing Under Milk Wood.  I await the outcome. 

     Returning to my experiences abroad, I have now new artistic decisions to make regarding my own poetry.  As a result of teaching creative writing to school children in Turin, one of the teachers, Lidia Chiarelli Actis (who later became my official translator) introduced me to her husband, a part-time painter, Gianpiero Actis. He was keen to illustrate some of my poems and in this way we have to date had dozens of exhibitions based on Word and Image.

The local civic council became involved and subsidised events in which painters all over Turin were invited to illustrate a surreal poem of mine, The Object.  The response was surprisingly positive with nearly a hundred painters of every imaginative style taking up the invitation. Lidia, herself a poet, has also experimented with a Canadian artist who works over the internet.  I wouldn’t be surprised if music will be part of future collaborations.

         .

     In conclusion, I have to admit that the cross-fertilisation of the different arts: words, illustration and music can work if thought out and executed sensitively. This appears to contradict my initial assertion that music and poetry (and as it happens images) cannot enhance each other.  They can and do as experience has taught me.

AERONWY THOMAS, 2008

Ekphrastic Poetry, Lidia Chiarelli, Sue Zhu

Lidia Chiarelli’s article “Ekphrastic Poetry then and now” translated by Sue Zhu and published in the Philippines

“The World News” is a daily broadsheet newspaper in the Philippines written in the Chinese language. Founded in 1981, it is currently the Philippines’ largest Chinese-language newspaper in terms of circulation.

http://classic-blog.udn.com/FOWNLP/155609015?fbclid=IwAR3_9vj5is76-sDg26ZHgwQvHO3_goP13PxRqA_v2Y4IXK_vD5LoESWNZeQ

Daniela Andonovska-Trajkovska, Immagine & poesia, Lidia Chiarelli

“THE ART OF LIVING” poem by Daniela Andonovska-Trajkovska, Republic of North Macedonia. Italian translation and Art by Lidia Chiarelli

THE ART OF LIVING

With my eyes wide shut, I was listening to

the legato of your thoughts that slides slowly

on the white and the black piano keys of life

I was watching you

as you were dressing the words into new skin

and observed how you were turning the paramecium of meaning

into multi-cellular organism that breathes with its own lungs

I was dreaming the metaphors

from which the lightnings

were learning the art of whispering as they were souls

and I was waking up over and over again

In the circled colors of pointillism I kept you

because I wanted you to show me,

with fast and sharp movements,

the art of writing for the moments

that no one could ever have

and when I wanted to admit

that you remind me of something

that I had had long time ago

your words got stuck into the bird’s throat

Don’t let us be nude, I cried,

don’t let us be alone

with no art of living

___

L’ARTE DI VIVERE

Con occhi apertamente chiusi, ascoltavo

la disposizione dei tuoi pensieri scorrere lentamente

sui tasti bianchi e neri del pianoforte della vita

Ti stavo guardando

mentre vestivi le parole con una nuova pelle

e osservavo come stavi trasformando il paramecio del significato

in un organismo multicellulare che respira con i propri polmoni

Sognavo le metafore

da cui i fulmini

stavano imparando l’arte di sussurrare come se fossero anime

e mi svegliavo in continuazione

Ti ho tenuto nei colori cerchiati del puntinismo

perché volevo che tu mi mostrassi,

con movimenti veloci e taglienti,

l’arte di scrivere per i momenti

che nessuno avrebbe mai potuto avere

e quando ho voluto ammettere

che tu mi ricordi qualcosa

che avevo avuto tanto tempo fa

le tue parole sono rimaste incastrate come nella gola di un uccello

Non lasciateci nudi, ho gridato piangendo,

non lasciateci soli

senza l’arte di vivere

DANIELA ANDONOVSKA-TRAJKOVSKA, Republic of North Macedonia

Daniela Andonovska-Trajkovska (born February 3, 1979, Bitola, North Macedonia) is poetess, scientist, editor, literary critic, doctor of pedagogy, university professor. She works at the Faculty of Education-Bitola, St. “Kliment Ohridski” University-Bitola, Republic of North Macedonia and teaches the courses:  Methodology of Teaching Language Arts, Creative Writing, Critical Literacy, Methodology of Teaching Early Reading and Writing, ect.  She is co-founder of the University Literary Club “Denicija PFBT UKLO” and also of the Center for Literature, Art, Culture, Rhetoric and Language at the Faculty of Education-Bitola. She is member of the Macedonian Writers’ Association, and The Bitola Literary Circle, and was president of the Macedonian Science Society Editorial Council (for two mandates). She is editor in chief of the literary journal “Rast” issued by the Bitola Literary Circle, and also – editor in chief of the International Journal “Contemporary Dialogues” (Macedonian Science Society), and “Literary Elements” Journal (Perun Artis), several poetry and prose books. Besides her scientific work published in many international scientific journals (over 100 articles), and one university book “Critical Literacy”, she writes poetry, prose and literary critics. She has published one prose book: “Coffee, Tea and the Red Sky” (2019), and 8 poetry books: “Word for the Word” (2014), “Poems for the Margins” (2015), “Black Dot” (2017), Footprints” (2017), “Three” (2019), “House of Contrasts” (2019), “Electronic Blood” (2019), and “Math Poetry” (2020). She has won special mention at the Nosside World Poetry Prize (UNESCO, 2011), the award for the best unpublished poem at the Macedonia Writers’ Association Festival (2018), “Krste Chachanski” prize for prose (2019), National “Karamanov” Poetry Prize for poetry 2019, Macedonian Literary Avant-garde (2020). Her poetry was published in a number of anthologies, literary magazines and journals both at home and abroad, and her works are translated into: English, Serbian, Croatian, Bosnian, Bulgarian, Albanian, Romanian, Polish, Chinese, Arabic, Turkish, Vietnamese, Uzbek, Bengali, and Italian language. She has translated many literary works from English, Serbian and Bulgarian language into Macedonian and vice versa. 

Ali Al-Hazmi, Immagine & poesia, Lidia Chiarelli

“A Corner in a Tavern” poem by Ali Al-Hazmi, Saudi Arabia. Italian Translation and Digital Art by Lidia Chiarelli, Italy

Un angolo in un bar

Lei non mi ha prestato attenzione,

Mentre si sedeva vicino al mio tavolo,

Nell’angolo del bar verso est.

Non prestava attenzione alla mia caotica solitudine, riflessa sui palmi delle mie mani con una sigaretta, che estendeva la sua fiamma al mio sangue.

Il fumo volava via come poesie bianche

Cancellando il riflesso di luce che si diffondeva

Per scoprire la nuvola di passioni maestose davanti ai miei occhi.

Con forza, lei ha iniziato a nascondere

L’argento del silenzio riversantesi sulle pulsazioni,

 Come una cornice per noi

Per completare il ritratto della passione nelle sue mani.

Ha poi sistemato una ciocca di capelli che le era caduta spontaneamente sull’occhio sinistro,

Mentre stava guardando assente un mazzo di rose

Su un tavolo che ci separava,

Nascondendo  metà della mia faccia.

Quanto desideravo incatenarmi

Ai suoi occhi,

Per notare quale doloroso desiderio si era impadronito della mia ultima metà.

 Per vedere come quel miserabile che restava  in fondo alla tazza affogava in profonde agonie.


A Corner in a Tavern

She paid no attention to me,

As she sat close to my table,

In the oriental corner of the tavern.

She paid no attention to my chaotic solitude, Reflected on my two palms holding a cigarette, That extended its flame to my blood.

Smoke flew away like white poems

Wiping off the spotlight that fell down,

To uncover the cloud of stately passions Before my eyes.

Forcibly, she started to hide

The silver of silence that spilled over pulses,

Framing us,

To complete the portrait of passion in her palms.

She, then, reassembled a lock of her hair that spontaneously fell Over her left eye,

When she was absently looking at a bouquet of roses

On a table separating us,

Hiding half my face.

 How much I wished I would become a complete string

In her eyes,

To notice what painful yearning had raged on my last half. To see a wretched person inhabiting the bottom of my cup,

Drowned in profound agonies.

________________

Ali Al-Hazmi (Biography)

* Born in Damadd, Saudi Arabia, in 1970.

* Obtained a degree in Arabic language and Literature at Umm Al-Qura University – Faculty of Arabic Language,1992.

* As early as the year 1985, the poet started publishing poems in a variety of local and Arabic cultural Periodicals such as The Seventh Day (Paris), Creativity (Cairo),

Nazoa (Amman) and The New Text.

The poet participated in a number of recital sessions of poetry inside and

outside of Saudi Arabia:

 International Poetry Festival, Costa Rica 2013.

 International Poetry Festival, Voix Vives in Toledo, Spain 2014.  International Poetry Festival, Punta del Este, Uruguay 2015.  Madrid Voice life Poetry Festival, Spain 2016.

 International Poetry Festival, Havana, Cuba 2016.

 International Poetry Festival, Medellín, Colombia 2016.

 Istanbul Poetry Festival, Turkey, 2016.

 International Poetry Festival, Roma 2017.

 International Academy Orient – Occident, Romania 2017.

 International Poetry Festival, Madrid, Spain 2017.

 International Poetry Festival, Malaga, Spain 2018.

 International Poetry Festival February, Madrid. Spain 2018. 82

 Publications:

 A Gate for the Body, Dar Almadina- Jeddah- 1993.

 Loss, Sharqiyat- Sharqueyat Pub. House, Cairo 2000.

 Deer Drink Its Own Image, Arab Cultural Center, Beirut 2004.

 Comfortable on the Edge, Riad-Al Rayes – Beirut 2009.

 Now in the Past, Arab Cultural Center-Beirut, 2018.

 Selected Poems (Audio CD Anthology) – Hail Literary Club, 2010.

Books Translated to Different Foreign Languages:

Trees of Absence, Translated into French-Lil-Dision – France 2016.

Comfortable on the Edge, Translated into Spanish by University of Costa Rica

Editorial 2013, House of Poetry Foundation.

Comfortable on the Edge, Translated into French- Larmatin – Paris 2016.

A Fragmented Life, Translated into Turkish – Art Shop Pub. House, Istanbul -Turkey 2017.

A definite Road in the Mist, Translated into English and Romanian language – Academy Orient – Occident – Romania 2017.

Take Me to My Body, Seleted Poems Translated into Serbian Language, Alma Publishing House, Belgrade, Serbia 2018.

A Road into the Wall, Translated into Macedonian Language, AkademskiPečat Publishing House, Macedonia, 2019.

 Comfortable on the Edge, Translated to Spanish, University of Costa Rica in Collaboration with The House of Poetry in Costa Rica, 2013.

Comfortable on the Edge, Translated to French, La Martin Publishing House, 2016. *Al Hazmiparticipated in more than 20 Anthologies in differentparts of theworld:

Colombia, Spain, Dominican, Germany, China, Turkey, Romania, Cuba and Serbia.

*The poet has recently signed a contract with Google to have the previlege of publishing some oh his poems on Google Assistance Site.

Prizes:

* Medal of Poetry, Urugway, 2015.

* The World Grand Prize for Poetry, The International Academy Orient – Occident in Romania 2017.

* His Poem “A Road into the Wall” won Verbumlandia Prize in Italy, 2017.

* The Prize of the Best International Poet in 2018, The International Center for Translation and Poetry Research, China.

Ali Al-Hazmi, Immagine & Poesia, Lidia Chiarelli

“Loss” poem by Ali Al-Hazmi, Saudi Arabia. Italian Translation and Digital Art by Lidia Chiarelli, Italy

Perdita

 Sulla soglia della notte,

Aspettano che passi l’ultima sera .

Hanno gli occhi pieni di dolore,

Con riluttanza,

Dimenticano se stessi nei sentieri del peccato.

Pensi che siano ubriachi a causa delle fiamme che hanno consumato le loro speranze.

Non lo sono.

Ma lo shock è così forte su un germoglio che spunta

Nella primavera dei loro occhi.

Non volevano che le loro ferite lasciassero il segno. Rubati all’inizio del cammino,

i fiori furono negati ai loro giorni;

Si riposavano in un esilio estenuante che si sfogliava nel loro petto.

Questo è ciò che fanno i perdenti con il loro tempo,

Alla fine,

Quando l’ultimo sentiero non va da nessuna parte di fronte alla notte; perché hanno dato tutto,

E non sono rimaste parole per loro

Dal vino della parola per esprimere un giudizio. Perciò non si preoccupano più delle urla che provengono dai loro ricordi

Chiusi dietro la porta della vita.

Oh, quanto sarebbe stato nobile il loro sogno

Di rimanere sulla carta,

Nell’armadio.

Loss

 On threshold of the night,

They await the last evening to pass.

They eyes are filled with sorrow,

Unwillingly,

They forget themselves in the pathways of sin.

You think they are drunk because of the flames of estrangement From hopes they left behind;

They are not.

But the shock is so hard on a sprout emerging

In the spring of their eyes.

They did not wish for their wounds to leave their footsteps, Stolen at the very beginning of the path,

Where they stayed away from the blossoms of their days;

They rested in an exhausting exile that leafed out in their chests.

That’s what losers do with their time,

At the end,

When the last path heads nowhere in the face of night; For they gave everything,

And no words are left for them

From the wine of speech to make a judgment. Therefore, they no more care about the screams Coming from their memories

Locked behind the door of life.

Oh, how noble it would have been of their dreams

To stay on paper,

In the closet.

______________

Ali Al-Hazmi (Biography)

* Born in Damadd, Saudi Arabia, in 1970.

* Obtained a degree in Arabic language and Literature at Umm Al-Qura University – Faculty of Arabic Language,1992.

* As early as the year 1985, the poet started publishing poems in a variety of local and Arabic cultural Periodicals such as The Seventh Day (Paris), Creativity (Cairo),

Nazoa (Amman) and The New Text.

The poet participated in a number of recital sessions of poetry inside and

outside of Saudi Arabia:

 International Poetry Festival, Costa Rica 2013.

 International Poetry Festival, Voix Vives in Toledo, Spain 2014.  International Poetry Festival, Punta del Este, Uruguay 2015.  Madrid Voice life Poetry Festival, Spain 2016.

 International Poetry Festival, Havana, Cuba 2016.

 International Poetry Festival, Medellín, Colombia 2016.

 Istanbul Poetry Festival, Turkey, 2016.

 International Poetry Festival, Roma 2017.

 International Academy Orient – Occident, Romania 2017.

 International Poetry Festival, Madrid, Spain 2017.

 International Poetry Festival, Malaga, Spain 2018.

 International Poetry Festival February, Madrid. Spain 2018. 82

 Publications:

 A Gate for the Body, Dar Almadina- Jeddah- 1993.

 Loss, Sharqiyat- Sharqueyat Pub. House, Cairo 2000.

 Deer Drink Its Own Image, Arab Cultural Center, Beirut 2004.

 Comfortable on the Edge, Riad-Al Rayes – Beirut 2009.

 Now in the Past, Arab Cultural Center-Beirut, 2018.

 Selected Poems (Audio CD Anthology) – Hail Literary Club, 2010.

Books Translated to Different Foreign Languages:

Trees of Absence, Translated into French-Lil-Dision – France 2016.

Comfortable on the Edge, Translated into Spanish by University of Costa Rica

Editorial 2013, House of Poetry Foundation.

Comfortable on the Edge, Translated into French- Larmatin – Paris 2016.

A Fragmented Life, Translated into Turkish – Art Shop Pub. House, Istanbul -Turkey 2017.

A definite Road in the Mist, Translated into English and Romanian language – Academy Orient – Occident – Romania 2017.

Take Me to My Body, Seleted Poems Translated into Serbian Language, Alma Publishing House, Belgrade, Serbia 2018.

A Road into the Wall, Translated into Macedonian Language, AkademskiPečat Publishing House, Macedonia, 2019.

 Comfortable on the Edge, Translated to Spanish, University of Costa Rica in Collaboration with The House of Poetry in Costa Rica, 2013.

Comfortable on the Edge, Translated to French, La Martin Publishing House, 2016. *Al Hazmiparticipated in more than 20 Anthologies in different parts of the world:

Colombia, Spain, Dominican, Germany, China, Turkey, Romania, Cuba and Serbia.

*The poet has recently signed a contract with Google to have the previlege of publishing some of his poems on Google Assistance Site.

Prizes:

* Medal of Poetry, Urugway, 2015.

* The World Grand Prize for Poetry, The International Academy Orient – Occident in Romania 2017.

* His Poem “A Road into the Wall” won Verbumlandia Prize in Italy, 2017.

* The Prize of the Best International Poet in 2018, The International Center for Translation and Poetry Research, China.

Immagine & poesia, Khế Iêm, Lidia Chiarelli

“THÊM MỘT NGÀY” by Lidia Chiarelli, Khế Iêm chuyển dịch

Hy vọng lớn đã mất Bạn không nghe thấy tiếng ồn

Sự đổ nát đã tới

Emily Dickinson

Thêm một bình minh của một ngày dài mãi khác.

Sự tĩnh lặng kỳ lạ như một màng mờ đục bao bọc thành phố.

Đôi khi những hình dạng phù du ra khỏi góc tối

vượt qua và biến mất

chìm sâu trong nỗi đơn độc đổi thay.

Chỉ những con chim nhạn những bậc thầy của bầu trời lặp lại trò chơi của chúng trong gió tháng Tư.

Hôm nay một lần nữa Tôi sẽ vào

mê cung ảo

nơi mất đi sự im lặng.

Hôm nay một lần nữa

Tôi sẽ lật – lần lượt – mỗi trang trống của thời gian khác biệt này.

Fine Art Photo by Lidia Chiarelli
Immagine & Poesia, Kakuk Tamás, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Lidia Chiarelli

“Az élet falára” by Lidia Chiarelli (Italy) -Kakuk Tamás fordítása (Magyarország)









First published in: https://ujforras.hu/megjelent-az-uj-forras-szeptemberi-szama-4/?fbclid=IwAR2iygKHheBmoX4fM5K6q54zfzZWB58V08gfJEWkO4r9fKoBfIKFQ68VVwM

Az élet falára

Lawrence Ferlinghetti 101. születésnapjára

Hic et nunc

Vezess fényt festeni

az élet falára.

Vezess, hogy

könnycsepp legyek

egy fájdalmas sírásban,

a költészet dombjának

magányos fája alatt.

Vigyél el,

felfedezni a világot,

ahogy te láttad

a tenger arany csillogását,

a szélben kóválygó sirályok táncát,

a nyugtalan árapályok felett.

Veled hallgatni

a szirén visszhangzó dalát,

a csillagos éjszaka

rozsdálló leveleinek neszében.

 Segíts nekem a fény partjára érni,

várni a napot, hogy világos legyen,

most és mindörökké

 Lidia Chiarelli

Kakuk Tamás fordítása

Új Forrás 2020/ 7

Immagine & poesia, Khế Iêm, Lidia Chiarelli

“CHAIRS” poem by Khế Iêm (Vietnam), image by Lidia Chiarelli (Italy)

CHAIRS -

CHAIRS

Chairs not of the same colors,

chairs not used for sitting,

the words for chairs, not chairs; chairs

that can be touched, chairs that can

 

be called names, chairs that are

indeed chairs, that are not chairs;

chairs that can never be drawn,

chairs that can never speak, chairs

 

that can never be had,

because they are chairs that

never change their form, chairs that

can never be misplaced or

 

lost, chairs that are not present;

chairs, alas, that is what they

are indeed chairs, alas, not

of the same colors, chairs, alas

 

not used for sitting; chairs that

are not far away, chairs beyond

all things; chairs that are just

what they are chairs.

Khế Iêm

___________________

 

SEDIE

 

Sedie non degli stessi colori,

sedie non utilizzate per sedersi,

parole per sedie, non sedie; sedie

che possono essere toccate, sedie che possono

 

essere definite con nomi, sedie che sono

davvero sedie, che non sono sedie;

sedie che non possono mai essere disegnate,

sedie che non possono mai parlare, sedie

 

che non si potranno mai avere,

perché sono sedie che

non cambiano mai forma, sedie che

non possono mai essere fuori posto o

 

perse, sedie che non sono presenti;

sedie, ahimè, ecco cosa

sono in effetti le sedie, ahimè, non

degli stessi colori, sedie, ahimè

 

non utilizzate per sedersi; sedie che

non sono lontane, sedie oltre

tutte le cose; sedie che sono proprio

cosa sono le sedie.

Translated by LIDIA CHIARELLI

__________

Khế Iêm (Vietnam) Khế Iêm was born in 1946. Founder and editor in chief of Tạp Chí Thơ (Journal of Poetry from 1994 to 2004), Editor of online Journal for New Formalism Poetry Club, since 2004. He has published Hột Huyết (Blood Seed) play, 1972, Thanh Xuân (Youth) poetry, 1992, Dấu Quê (Traces of the Homeland), poetry, 1996, Thời của Quá khứ (A Time Past), stories, 1996, Vu Dieu Khong Van, essays, 2018.

Digital Collage, Immagine & poesia, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Lidia Chiarelli

“Back to the first light”, Tribute to Lawrence Ferlinghetti

BACK TO THE FIRST LIGHT

Lidia Chiarelli’s Tribute to Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s poem A VAST CONFUSION

Due to the viral pandemic that has affected almost every country in the world,  we still see a big confusion and  we wonder how the world will be in the near future.

However we like to believe, with Lawrence Ferlinghetti, that there will be a rebirth and that the world will come out of this

 Chaos unscrambled

and will return

back to the first

harmonies

And the first light.