On the move


“I don’t know where to go.”

“Neither do I. Let’s go together.”

In the day we sweat it out in the streets of a runaway american dream
At night we ride through mansions of glory in suicide machines
Sprung from cages out on highway 9,
Chrome wheeled, fuel injected and steppin out over the line
Baby this town rips the bones from your back
Its a death trap, it’s a suicide rap
We gotta get out while were young
`cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run (more…)

‘Before we reach our goal,’ the hoopoe said,
The journey’s seven valleys lie ahead;
How far this is the world has never learned,
For no one has gone there has returned –
Impatient bird, who would retrace this trail?
There is no messenger to tell the tale,
And they are lost to our concerns below –
How can men tell you what they do not know?
The first stage is the Valley of the Quest;
Then Love’s wide valley is our second test;
The third is Insight into Mystery,
The fourth Detachment and Serenity –
The fifth is Unity; the sixth is Awe,
A deep bewilderment unknown before,
The seventh Poverty and Nothingness –
And there you are suspended, motionless,
Till you are drawn – the impulse is not yours –
A drop absorbed in seas that have no shores.

lines 3216 – 33

All day I hear the noise of waters
Making moan,
Sad as the sea-bird is when, going
Forth alone,
He hears the winds cry to the water’s
Monotone.

The grey winds, the cold winds are blowing
Where I go.
I hear the noise of many waters
Far below.
All day, all night, I hear them flowing
To and fro.

One Sunday morning,
instead of studying The Illiad,
I escaped with Bino to Florence,
to see what miracles the aviator Manissero
would perform. (more…)

Comme je descendais des Fleuves impassibles,
Je ne me sentis plus guidé par les haleurs :
Des Peaux-Rouges criards les avaient pris pour cibles
Les ayant cloués nus aux poteaux de couleurs. (more…)

At that time I was a kid
Barely sixteen and already I no longer remembered my childhood
I was 16,000 leagues from the land of my birth
I was in Moscow, in the city of 1003 bell towers and 7 train stations
And I didn’t get enough of the 7 stations and the 1003 towers
Because I was such a hot and crazy kid
That my heart, tower to tower, was burning like the Temple of Ephesus or like Red Square in Moscow at sunset.
And my eyes got shiny in those ancient streets
And I was already such a bad poet
That I didn’t know how to go about it. (more…)

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