Lisa Corva

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J’ai embrassé l’aube d’été.

Friday, 22 July 2011 @08:39

"J’ai embrassé l’aube d’été."

(Arthur Rimbaud)

Et enfin, calme, luxe, volupté.

Le silence est fait de paroles que l’on n’a pas dites.

Friday, 15 July 2011 @08:48

"Le silence est fait de paroles que l’on n’a pas dites".

(Marguerite Yourcenar)

Et moi j'apprends la douceur du silence.

Somehow myself survived the night.

Friday, 8 July 2011 @08:15

"Somehow myself survived the Night
and entered with the Day
That it be saved the Saved suffice
without the Formula"

(Emily Dickinson)

Somehow I survived darkness. And embraced the light.

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The great labor was always to efface oneself, reappear as something entirely different.

Friday, 1 July 2011 @09:35

"The great labor was always to efface oneself,
reappear as something entirely different:
the pillow of a young woman in love,
a ball of lint pretending to be a spider".

(Charles Simic)

And that’s what I am today: the pillow of a young woman in love.

One of Charles Simic's favourite jokes is: "my travel agents were Hitler, Stalin and Tito". He left his native Belgrade in 1953 to join his father in the Usa. During the way he lost the final accent of Simic, but acquired enough humor noir to last for his more than twenty books of poems.

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Lisa Corva

Yes, I write. Yes, I believe in the magic of words. That’s why you’ll find me here, every Friday: Lisa “globish”!

I believe in the magic of words, and I believe Piazza Unità in Trieste, where I was born, is the most romantic square in the world. (And yes, it’s in Italy, proudly facing the sea). I love roses in every form. And, of course, I do love my blog, expecially now that I can carry it around on my iPhone.