When the night comes falling (Bob Dylan)

foto: Alessandro Foglia, dopo la via nuova, novembre 2012

Look out across the fields, see me returning
Smoke is in your eye, you draw a smile
From the fireplace where my letters to you are burning
You’ve had time to think about it for a while

Well, I’ve walked two hundred miles, now look me over
It’s the end of the chase and the moon is high
It won’t matter who loves who
You’ll love me or I’ll love you
When the night comes falling from the sky

I can see through your walls and I know you’re hurting
Sorrow covers you up like a cape
Only yesterday I know that you’ve been flirting
With disaster that you managed to escape

I can’t provide for you no easy answers
Who are you that I should have to lie?
You’ll know all about it, love
It’ll fit you like a glove
When the night comes falling from the sky

I can hear your trembling heart beat like a river
You must have been protecting someone last time I called.
I’ve never asked you for nothing you couldn’t deliver
I’ve never asked you to set yourself up for a fall

I saw thousands who could have overcome the darkness
For the love of a lousy buck, I’ve watched them die
Stick around, baby, we’re not through
Don’t look for me, I’ll see you
When the night comes falling from the sky

In your teardrops, I can see my own reflection
It was on the northern border of Texas where I crossed the line
I don’t want to be a fool starving for affection
I don’t want to drown in someone else’s wine

For all eternity I think I will remember
That icy wind that’s howling in your eye
You will seek me and you’ll find me
In the wasteland of your mind
When the night comes falling from the sky

Well, I sent you my feelings in a letter
But you were gambling for support
This time tomorrow I’ll know you better
When my memory is not so short

This time I’m asking for freedom
Freedom from a world which you deny
And you’ll give it to me now
I’ll take it anyhow
When the night comes falling from the sky

Cleaning Windows (Van Morrison)

Oh, the smell of the bakery from across the street
Got in my nose
As we carried our ladders down the street
With the wrought-iron gate rows
I went home and listened to jimmie rodgers in my lunch-break
Bought five woodbines at the shop on the corner
And went straight back to work.

Oh, sam was up on top
And I was on the bottom with the v
We went for lemonade and paris buns
At the shop and broke for tea
I collected from the lady
And I cleaned the fanlight inside-out
I was blowing saxophone on the weekend
In that down joint.

What's my line?
Im happy cleaning windows
Take my time
Ill see you when my love grows
Baby don't let it slide
Im a working man in my prime
Cleaning windows (number a hundred and thirty-six)

I heard leadbelly and blind lemon
On the street where I was born
Sonny terry, brownie mcghee,
Muddy Waters singin Im a rolling stone
I went home and read my christmas humphreys book on zen
Curiosity killed the cat
Kerouacs dharma bums and on the road

What's my line?
Im happy cleaning windows
Take my time
Ill see you when my love grows
Baby don't let it slide
Im a working man in my prime
Cleaning windows...

Working on a Dream (Bruce Springsteen)

foto: Mario Spinola, il Duca impegnato sulle creste del Brenta, Luglio 2013

Out here the nights are long, the days are lonely 

I think of you and I'm working on a dream 

I'm working on a dream 

Now the cards I've drawn's a rough hand, darling 

I straighten my back and I'm working on a dream 

I'm working on a dream 

I'm working on a dream 

Though sometimes it feels so far away 

I'm working on a dream 

I know it will be mine someday 

Rain pourin' down, I swing my hammer 

My hands are rough from working on a dream 

From working on a dream 

I'm working on a dream 

Though trouble can feel like it's here to stay 

I'm working on a dream 

Our love will chase the trouble away 

I'm working on a dream 

Though it can feel so far away 

I'm working on a dream 

And our love will make it real someday 

The sunrise come, I climb the ladder 

The new day breaks and I'm working on a dream 

I'm working on a dream 

I'm working on a dream 

I'm working on a dream 

I'm working on a dream 

Though it can feel so far away 

I'm working on a dream 

And our love will make it real someday 

I'm working on a dream 

Though it can feel so far away 

I'm working on a dream 

And our love will make it real someday 

Whiskey in the jar (Irish)

foto: Ilario Pacati, al cospetto dei giganti prima dell'assalto, Agosto 2012

As I was a goin' over the far famed Kerry mountains
I met with captain Farrell and his money he was counting
I first produced my pistol and I then produced my rapier
Saying "Stand and deliver" for he were a bold deceiver

Mush-a ring dum-a do dum-a da
Wack fall the daddy-o, wack fall the daddy-o
There's whiskey in the jar

I counted out his money and it made a pretty penny
I put it in me pocket and I took it home to Jenny
She sighed and she swore that she never would deceive me
But the devil take the women for they never can be easy

Mush-a ring dum-a do dum-a da
Wack fall the daddy-o, wack fall the daddy-o
There's whiskey in the jar 

I went up to my chamber, all for to take a slumber
I dreamt of gold and jewels and for sure 't was no wonder
But Jenny blew me charges and she filled them up with water
Then sent for captain Farrell to be ready for the slaughter

Mush-a ring dum-a do dum-a da
Wack fall the daddy-o, wack fall the daddy-o
There's whiskey in the jar

't was early in the morning, just before I rose to travel
Up comes a band of footmen and likewise captain Farrell
I first produced me pistol for she stole away me rapier
I couldn't shoot the water, so a prisoner I was taken

Mush-a ring dum-a do dum-a da
Wack fall the daddy-o, wack fall the daddy-o
There's whiskey in the jar

If anyone can aid me 't is my brother in the army
If I can find his station in Cork or in Killarney
And if he'll go with me, we'll go rovin' through Killkenny
And I'm sure he'll treat me better than my own a-sporting Jenny

Mush-a ring dum-a do dum-a da
Wack fall the daddy-o, wack fall the daddy-o
There's whiskey in the jar 

Now there's some take delight in the carriages a rolling
and others take delight in the hurling and the bowling
but I take delight in the juice of the barley
and courting pretty fair maids in the morning bright and early

Mush-a ring dum-a do dum-a da
Wack fall the daddy-o, wack fall the daddy-o
There's whiskey in the jar

Simple Man (Lynyrd Skynyrd)

foto: Mario Spinola, tra i monti e il cielo, Luglio 2012

Mama told me when I was young
Come sit beside me, my only son
And listen closely to what I say.
And if you do this
It'll help you some sunny day. Oh Yah!
Oh, take your time... Don't live too fast,
Troubles will come and they will pass.
You'll find a woman, yea yea, you'll find love,
And don't forget son,
There is someone up above.

And be a simple, kind of man.
Oh be something, you love and understand.
Baby be a simple, kind of man.
Oh, won't you do this for me son,
If you can?

Forget your lust, for the rich man's gold
All that you need, is in your soul,
And you can do this, oh baby, if you try.
All that I want for you my son,
Is to be satisfied.

Boy, don't you worry... you'll find yourself.
Follow your heart, lord, and nothing else.
And you can do this, oh baby, if you try.
All that I want for you my son,
Is to be satisfied.

Baby be a simple, be a simple man.
Oh be something, you love and understand.
Baby be a simple, kind of man.

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)