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When I seem so sad and dreamy

is because the wind has turned my violin in the city

Using Roads As

large strings.

E 'because the sea has

sounds vague and seems to be shrouded in a sweet spell

low light. Is it because the Jordan

groans

absurd in its path that led him to join

its sea green.

is because my spirit floats

the towers of gold and copper

In the city of peace

Yerushalaim, ir shalom

E 'because the fog slowly rising from the waters

And trees already awake

Moves languid branches.

is because the air intones arpeggios

elliptical vibration

Passionate and tragic.

is because the fish in my garden

They dropped their fruit silk

And the trees of my forest

hold their breath

Filling the atmosferaD'incenso.

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One day, one fateful day of the Gilboa Iris

One day, one fateful day
A red cat fur

sockets writhe in pain. I would not scare

tells his story,
you put it in a bad mood.
The kitten, that fateful day
was attacked by a thousand scorpions
What came out From hiding dark yellow yellow
,
While she, unaware of all
lying limply on the grass,
sang the praises of God. None of his friends

It would
imagined a fate so cruel to her

Just who are content to just
And the world did not care:
not even read the papers. From that day on the red

kitten was taken by the fear
But because he was not stupid
He was convinced that it was possible to find directions


Much more beautiful than those of before.
was how he made friends with a
gabbiana
that every night he took her flying in the blue
infinite sky.

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To those who have read my poetry sull'Iris of Gilboa (as it is called by botanists), I want to add my comment.

The Biblical Mount Gilboa is a mountain dry and brittle. In the Bible it is said that the news of the death of David Shaul and Yonathan, beloved son of Shaul at the foot of Gilboa, launched on the mountain this terrible curse:

O mountains of Gilboa, no more you sweat or dew or rain fields New, because here was depressed the shield of the heroes, the shield of Shaul (Samuel II, 1, 21)

Since then the mountain is a desert, nothing grows, except in spring, a flower called the Gilboa Iris, a flower only grows in this area where the desert and the Mediterranean flora kiss. We Israelis, respectful of the word of David, we've never planted anything.

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the moon always sighs

atop Mount Gilboa
The moon is dying, dying


dying of love for him, the little flower that grows


that grow only in the top of Mount Gilboa E
'a flower indecisive and shy
By day the sun as the night wears

And when the moon the moon sees him with a trembling hand

Raises The edge of her skirt
To reflect His flower bloom

upon his thighs and curves of pure and
crystal clear.
And while the moon looks languidly
cries
Pouring on him
Small drops and pearls
of tender fresh dew.
atop Mount Gilboa
sighs The moon always

Why is dying dying dying

For the love of the Gilboa Iris

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Nightmare

the yellow desert sand
thousand angry scorpions
wanted me hunting
But it was only a nightmare
And when I wake up I found
The thrill of your arms.
I saw your mantle
empty and your voice away Leaving me confused


In the nightmare you look at me and explained that it is all over

leaving me imprisoned in my pain of dust.
But it was just a nightmare And the
I woke up I found
The thrill of your arms. In the nightmare

And you told me 'right to avoid the pleasure
E' right to avoid the life
And our love will be tomorrow
hardened coral

But it was just a nightmare and I woke up I found
The thrill of your arms .
Never will the world
A night like this.
Night of glass,
of feet off,
Night
Crystallized blood, cold hands

Night of Night of blood
never will be blind to the world
equal to this one night. A far
orchestra struggled

Dramatically With violinists
crazy And on the sea coast
They sang the killers
But it was just a nightmare
And when I wake up I found
The thrill of your arms.