... decided to love you ... (in the image: Blue Nude Picasso)
You can love a child ever had? Yes, it is perhaps the greatest act of love that can exist, because it is a conscious act of the surrounding world, is a refusal to conceive of an existence in a world moldy. A test of love against selfishness to conceive of themselves without the assessment of the future of the unborn. Happiness or sorrow? Agony or ecstasy? What awaits us at the time of our birth? The balance is always a bit 'more towards the abyss, the strength and weaknesses invest in the game of chance unhappiness has more weight. It is when we become aware of the evil in the world, the tremendous torment of the living and the pain that you may have without being able to intervene in any way on the route, it is then that the suit be aware of his love in a choice of non-conception, a supreme act of love that eats the pain of the soul and never had a child desired.
avoided Son is one of the most beautiful poems by Bevilacqua, full of passion, emotion, pain and love. A poem dedicated to her son that the poet would have liked to cuddle like living flesh but it is only the essence of his regrets. A wish that contrasts with the bitter realization of a life hard, hard life that is saved with the more altruistic (and misunderstood) act of love. Not I am surprised that this poem is the most dear to the poet himself.
"There was little mystery of the Son avoided. reflect that in the budget of many negative aspects of my life, the bane of my mother had imposed. With radical effects, some devastating. I had to recognize him with resigned bitterness . I paid the accounts that she had left hanging after being squandered. In fact I had thought that I was not obsessive father, maternal infections and trauma I had to be prevented. He was born a poem. Among my I consider the most beautiful. I had dedicated to his son that I did not have ... I held on my desk. I used to read it again to prove a pity all mine, to hurt me. One day, the sheet with the poem disappeared ... I found the paper with the poem later, in the pages of the diary of my mother. "
avoided Son is one of the most beautiful poems by Bevilacqua, full of passion, emotion, pain and love. A poem dedicated to her son that the poet would have liked to cuddle like living flesh but it is only the essence of his regrets. A wish that contrasts with the bitter realization of a life hard, hard life that is saved with the more altruistic (and misunderstood) act of love. Not I am surprised that this poem is the most dear to the poet himself.
"There was little mystery of the Son avoided. reflect that in the budget of many negative aspects of my life, the bane of my mother had imposed. With radical effects, some devastating. I had to recognize him with resigned bitterness . I paid the accounts that she had left hanging after being squandered. In fact I had thought that I was not obsessive father, maternal infections and trauma I had to be prevented. He was born a poem. Among my I consider the most beautiful. I had dedicated to his son that I did not have ... I held on my desk. I used to read it again to prove a pity all mine, to hurt me. One day, the sheet with the poem disappeared ... I found the paper with the poem later, in the pages of the diary of my mother. "
SON AVOIDED
... is clear in the eyes
you may have is in your
furtive look, while they are distracted,
capia me to think of you, son
decided that I did not want to love you
- could, if you were to be existed
our lives close to each other like little monkeys
feel the cold wind tonight
... I'd have to walk by my side in
false distances, panoramas
of thought also of Deception Point
... or perhaps you might even hate me
-
you could be my pride - they say -
but my pride is to have you spared the hour of twilight
sharpening the blade:
only you can tell if it was
error and to what extent
not having fed the species
... Just understand that you
by force of the vacuum will have full,
my sacred statue, which do
my geranium
the primordial water of the day, and day
there
I forget ... we will be where you are in the first
and the first returns,
answer: why should I inflict
delinquency of a way to
a brief ordeal?
- see me one day appear,
leave me, I hope,
a seat next to you: remember, if you can, at least to touch
hands in my hands the wounds of not having
never caressed face in life
... the Spring, women would have had
is made this breadth of my solitude;
I am proud only of this: I have not thrown in the trash
anyone.
Alberto Bevilacqua
poetry in this anthology
interpreting verses in the possession of my mother psychiatric hospital in C.
The Poems and - Oscar Mondadori -
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