The floor turned into sand,
then shifted to a desert.
There Karanduniash stood,
like an overgrown oasis,
sublime and mysterious,
raised by the will
of Nabû-kudurri-uṣur.
The moonlight kisses
the hanging gardens.
It is quiet from afar
but it is only a mirage,
it teems with life:
humming, rustling,
whispering to the stars.
Embraced by two rivers,
winding like snakes,
bathed by the waters
of hidden aqueducts,
this suspended Eden
welcomes all dreamers
carrying lost secrets.
When the sun sets
bees start yawning.
Velvet moths float in,
caress datura trumpets
as moonflowers unfurl
and luminous fireflies
light up the scene.
In the hanging gardens,
among figs and olive trees,
it is not yet time to sleep.
It is the hour of stargazing
while harps accompany
the lonesome echoes
of the distant sea.
Wrapped in the mist,
sipping date nectar,
sugary and sweet,
in the shapes of constellations,
sifting through citrus blossoms,
the dreamers may find
what they came to seek.
Karanduniash never dies,
it lives beyond time.
It cannot be chased away,
only remembered by some
and forgotten by many.
Still it stands by the rivers,
for whoever would listen.
Tag: flowers
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Nabû-kudurri-uṣur
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Flower Bombs
Italiano (English below):
In un battito di ciglia,
i rami secchi e spogli
sono scoppiati di vita.
I glicini sono esplosi,
come fuochi d’artificio,
in grappoli violetti.
Una cascata di fiori,
di bellezza improvvisa,
di natura prodigiosa.
Tanto veloci sbocciano,
e similmente moriranno,
per fare posto ad altro.
Come già son scomparsi
i bei narcisi dorati,
aspettiamo i gelsomini.
In questa parata variopinta
di rinascita e dipartita,
quand’ è la nostra sortita?
English:
In the blink of an eye,
the dry and barren branches
burst forth with life.
The wisterias have exploded,
like some fireworks,
into lilac clusters.
A cascade of flowers,
of sudden beauty,
of prodigious nature.
So swiftly they bloom,
and just as swiftly subside,
making room for something else.
As the golden daffodils
have already vanished,
we anticipate the jasmines.
In this colorful parade
of rebirth and departure,
when is it our turn? -
Capricci Stagionali / Seasonal Whims
Italiano (English below):
La primavera è arrivata,
per liberarci dai cappotti,
che, con slancio olimpico,
impicchiamo all’attaccapanni.
Molle sotto ai piedi,
particolarmente efficaci
quando sediamo in ufficio,
mentre splende il sole.
Che poi è l’origine
dei peccati capitali,
che nessun rosario
potrà mai espiare.
Le idee non sbocciano
su schermi incolori;
la vita è un pendolo
tra noia e riunioni.
Quando scoccano le cinque,
saltiamo fuori,
corriamo al parco,
ad annusare i fiori.
English:
Spring has arrived,
to spring us from coats,
which, with Olympic zest,
we hang on the coat rack.
Springs under our feet,
particularly effective
when we sit in the office,
with the sun shining.
Which is, after all,
the spring of mortal sins,
that no rosary
will ever redeem.
Ideas don't spring
on colorless screens;
life is a pendulum
between boredom and meetings.
When five o'clock strikes,
we spring out,
run to the park,
to smell the flowers.
Cosmic & Uneasy 