Wish you where here (Pink Floyd)

foto: Mario Spinola, oltre le onde di neve è la parete, Maggio 2011

So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell, 
blue skies from pain. 
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil? 
Do you think you can tell? 

And did they get you trade your heroes for ghosts? 
Hot ashes for trees? Hot air for a cool breeze? 
Cold comfort for change? And did you exchange 
a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage? 

How I wish, how I wish you were here. 
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, 
year after year, 
running over the same old ground. What have we found? 
The same old fears, 
wish you were here. 

Guardare il Cielo (Florenskij)

foto: Andrea Prina, alba sul Bianco, Agosto 2011

"Osservate più spesso le stelle.
Quando avrete un peso nell'animo,
guardate le stelle o l'azzurro del cielo.
Quando vi sentirete tristi,
quando vi offenderanno,
... intrattenetevi... col cielo.
Allora la vostra anima troverà la quiete"

Monte Pasubio (Bepi de Marzi - i Crodaioli)

foto: Mario Spinola, pensieri sulla cima, Febbraio 2012

Sulla strada del Monte Pasubio
bom borombom bom bom borombom
lenta sale una lunga colonna
bom borombom bom bom borombom.
L’è la marcia de chi non torna
de chi se ferma a morir lassù.

Ma gli alpini non hanno paura
bom borombom bom bom borombom.

Sulla cima del Monte Pasubio
bom borombom bom bom borombom
soto i denti ghe sè ’na miniera
bom borombom bom bom borombom.
Sè i alpini che scava e spera
de ritornare a trovar l’amor.

Ma gli alpini non hanno paura
bom borombom bom bom borombom.

Sulla strada del Monte Pasubio
bom borombom bom bom borombom
sè rimasta soltanto ’na crose
bom borombom bom bom borombom.
No se sente mai più ’na vose,
ma solo el vento che basa i fior.

Ma gli alpini non hanno paura
bom borombom bom bom borombà.

Like a Rolling Stone (Bob Dylan)

foto: Mario Spinola, my direction home, Febbraio 2012

Once upon a time you dressed so fine
You threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn’t you?
People’d call, say, “Beware doll, you’re bound to fall”
You thought they were all kiddin’ you
You used to laugh about
Everybody that was hangin’ out
Now you don’t talk so loud
Now you don’t seem so proud
About having to be scrounging for your next meal

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be without a home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

You’ve gone to the finest school all right, Miss Lonely
But you know you only used to get juiced in it
And nobody has ever taught you how to live on the street
And now you find out you’re gonna have to get used to it
You said you’d never compromise
With the mystery tramp, but now you realize
He’s not selling any alibis
As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes
And ask him do you want to make a deal?

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

You never turned around to see the frowns on the jugglers and the clowns
When they all come down and did tricks for you
You never understood that it ain’t no good
You shouldn’t let other people get your kicks for you
You used to ride on the chrome horse with your diplomat
Who carried on his shoulder a Siamese cat
Ain’t it hard when you discover that
He really wasn’t where it’s at
After he took from you everything he could steal

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

Princess on the steeple and all the pretty people
They’re drinkin’, thinkin’ that they got it made
Exchanging all kinds of precious gifts and things
But you’d better lift your diamond ring, you’d better pawn it babe
You used to be so amused
At Napoleon in rags and the language that he used
Go to him now, he calls you, you can’t refuse
When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose
You’re invisible now, you got no secrets to conceal

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

Ricordando le mie montagne

La montagna mi ha insegnato a non barare, a essere onesto con me stesso e con quello che facevo. Se praticata in un certo modo è una scuola indubbiamente dura, a volte anche crudele, però sincera come non accade sempre nel quotidiano. Se io dunque traspongo questi principi nel mondo degli uomini, mi troverò immediatamente considerato un fesso... É davvero difficile conciliare queste diversità. Da qui l'importanza di fortificare l'animo, di scegliere che cosa si vuole essere. E, una volta scelta una direzione, di essere talmente forti da non soccombere alla tentazione di imboccare l'altra. (Walter Bonatti)

Simple Twist of Fate (Bob Dylan)

foto: Mario Spinola, attendendo la Nord del Gran Paradiso, Giugno 2011

They sat together in the park
As the evening sky grew dark
She looked at him and he felt a spark tingle to his bones
’Twas then he felt alone and wished that he’d gone straight
And watched out for a simple twist of fate

They walked along by the old canal
A little confused, I remember well
And stopped into a strange hotel with a neon burnin’ bright
He felt the heat of the night hit him like a freight train
Moving with a simple twist of fate

A saxophone someplace far off played
As she was walkin’ by the arcade
As the light bust through a beat-up shade where he was wakin’ up,
She dropped a coin into the cup of a blind man at the gate
And forgot about a simple twist of fate

He woke up, the room was bare
He didn’t see her anywhere
He told himself he didn’t care, pushed the window open wide
Felt an emptiness inside to which he just could not relate
Brought on by a simple twist of fate

He hears the ticking of the clocks
And walks along with a parrot that talks
Hunts her down by the waterfront docks where the sailors all come in
Maybe she’ll pick him out again, how long must he wait
Once more for a simple twist of fate

People tell me it’s a sin
To know and feel too much within
I still believe she was my twin, but I lost the ring
She was born in spring, but I was born too late
Blame it on a simple twist of fate

I'll remember you (Bob Dylan)

foto: Mario Spinola, il ritorno dalla grande parete, Giugno 2011

I'll remember you
When I've forgotten all the rest,
You to me were true,
You to me were the best.
When there is no more,
You cut to the core
Quicker than anyone I knew.
When I'm all alone
In the great unknown,
I'll remember you.

I'll remember you
At the end of the trail,
I had so much left to do,
I had so little time to fail.
There's some people that
You don't forget,
Even though you've only seen'm
One time or two.
When the roses fade
And I'm in the shade,
I'll remember you.

Didn't I, didn't I try to love you?
Didn't I, didn't I try to care?
Didn't I sleep, didn't I weep beside you
With the rain blowing in your hair?

I'll remember you
When the wind blows through the piney wood.
It was you who came right through,
It was you who understood.
Though I'd never say
That I done it the way
That you'd have liked me to.
In the end,
My dear sweet friend,
I'll remember you.

il Viandante (Schmidt)

foto: Pietro Galli, la parete del Rosa, Settembre 2008

Vengo dalla montagna,
La vallata è piena di nebbia, il mare mugghia
Cammino in silenzio, il cuore è gonfio di tristezza
Sospirando, non smetto di domandare: dove?

Il sole mia appare così freddo,
Il fiore appassito, la vita così carica d'anni,
E ciò che mormorano non è che un'eco vana,
Ovunque sono straniero.

Dove sei patria mia amata?
Inseguita, sentita e mai trovata?
Patria, patria ove la speranza risplende,
Patria, ove fioriscono le rose.

Dove i miei amici camminano,
dove i miei morti resuscitano,
patria che la mia stessa lingua parla,
O patria, dove sei?

Cammino in silenzio, il cuore è gonfio di tristezza,
Non smetto di domandare, sospirando: dove?
Una voce di morte in un sussurro mi risponde:
"Dove non sei, lì è la felicità".

Ciao Walter

Ventanas (Van de Sfroos)

foto: Andrea Prina, l'infinto tutto attorno, Luglio 2011

Veent de segunda risma,
svolza la föja ferma...
veent a cavàll de l'unda
ogni pees lassa che'l funda...

Sbroja tüta la matassa,
quajcoss ciàpa quajcoss làssa...
tira tira drizz el fiil
e pö làssa che'l se rillàssa...

Veent cunt'el pàss balòss
quell che vöri mea tirum via de dòss
slàrga el fiaa e bùfa in giir i stell,
lassa el to' disegn in sö la mia pell...

Tirum via la smàgia
della mia pagüüra
e scancela el pass
de quaand che gira l'ura...

Ciàpa i mè suspiir
e porta indree i suriis
basa la muntagna
cunt i cavej griis....

Neta la mia fàcia
neta la mia umbrìa
fàmm una carèzza
prèma de nà via....