Appuntamento con il tè

tea13

Bussarono alla porta e il cameriere entrò con il vassoio del tè e lo posò sul tavolino giapponese. Si udì un tintinnire di tazze e di piattini e il sibilo flautato di un samovar georgiano. Un paggio portava due coppe cinesi. Dorian Gray si alzò e si versò il tè. I due uomini si avvicinarono lentamente alla tavola e alzarono i coprivivande.
“Andiamo a teatro, stasera, – disse lord Henry. […]
“Sarei lieto di venire con voi […] – disse il giovane.(Oscar Wilde, Il ritratto di Dorian Gray)

AFTERNOON POETRY

“Il tè non ha nulla dell’inebriante arroganza del vino e dell’individualismo del caffè o dell’affettata innocenza del cacao, ma un gusto sottile, particolarmente adatto ad essere idealizzato”.

Il libro del tè – Okakura Kazuko

tea d

Voglio che tu beva il mio te’. Sentirai, il profumo ti arrivera’ all’ anima”. Parlava di un te’ prezioso, giuntole da Calcutta… Un profumo acuto si spandeva nell’ aria… Ella verso’ in una tazza la bevanda e l’ offerse ad Andrea, con un sorriso misterioso. Egli rifiuto’ dicendo “Non voglio berlo in tazza ma da te”… “Ora prendi un bel sorso”… Maria, teneva le labbra serrate, per contenerlo… E Andrea la bacio’, suggendo da essa tutto il sorso…

(Gabriele d’Annunzio, Il piacere)

Tè

tea9

C’era un tavolo apparecchiato sotto un albero di fronte alla casa, la Lepre Marzolina e il Cappellaio prendevano il te’. E, ancora, ‘Prendi un po’ di vino’, disse la Lepre Marzolina con un tono invitante. Alice si guardo’ intorno ma da ogni parte non vide altro che te’

(Lewis Carrol, Alice nel paese delle meraviglie)

tea 0

To be continued…!

Annunci

“…La sabbia riempie i loro bicchieri e copre i loro corpi”

Da “Il tè nel deserto”

From “The sheltering sky”

Paul Bowles

Peter Bowles

Peter Bowles

C’è una storia che raccontano i beduini, la storia di Outka, Momouna e Aicha, tre ballerine, che hanno come unico desiderio quello di bere il tè nel Sahara. Un giorno si mettono in viaggio con una carovana di mercanti . Giunte nel deserto vanno alla ricerca della duna più alta e arrivate si riposano prima di bere il tè. Colte dalla stanchezza si addormentano e la sabbia riempie i loro bicchieri e copre i loro corpi.

 

Tè nel deserto

Tè nel deserto

 

” E’ curioso”,continuò la signora Ferry. ” Il deserto è un posto così grande , eppure niente va veramente perduto, mai”.

shelteringsky

Il narratore (Paul Bowles)
“Poichè non sappiamo quando moriremo, si è portati a credere che la vita sia un pozzo inesauribile; però tutto accade solo un certo numero di volte, un numero minimo di volte. Quante volte vi ricorderete di un certo pomeriggio della vostra infanzia, un pomeriggio che è così profondamente parte di voi che senza neanche riuscireste a concepire la vostra vita – forse altre quattro o cinque volte, forse nemmeno. Quante altre volte guarderete levarsi la luna – forse venti – eppure tutto sembra senza limite.”

 

 

“Death is always on the way, but the fact that you don’t know when it will arrive seems to take away from the finiteness of life. It’s that terrible precision that we hate so much. But because we don’t know, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens a certain number of times, and a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that’s so deeply a part of your being that you can’t even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more. Perhaps not even. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless.”

Paul Bowles, The Sheltering Sky

 

“How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that’s so deeply a part of your being that you can’t even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more. Perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless.”
Paul Bowles, The Sheltering Sky

desert

“The soul is the weariest part of the body.”

Paul Bowles, The Sheltering Sky

shelteringKit Moresby
A volte penso che questo sia il nostro vero errore: credere di avere tutto il tempo che vogliamo. Che il tempo in realtà non esista…

tumblr_ljbyuu8rRi1qefgdko1_500Port Moresby
Non siamo mai riusciti a immergerci nella vita fino in fondo. Ci teniamo aggrappati all’esterno delle cose… come se avessimo paura di cadere.

 

“the sky here’s very strange. I often have the sensation when I look at it that it’s a solid thing up there, protecting us from what’s behind . . . [from] nothing, I suppose. Just darkness. Absolute night.”

Paul Bowles, The Sheltering Sky

 

 

“[A]nother important difference between tourist and traveler is that the former accepts his own civilization without question; not so the traveler, who compares it with the others, and rejects those elements he finds not to his liking.”

Paul Bowles, The Sheltering Sky

Il_t___nel_deser_4c84c8a6587ae

tumblr_lymjijVjNM1rntvsmo1_1280

 

The Portrait of a Lady

“It has made me better loving you…it has made me wiser, and easier, and brighter. I used to want a great many things before, and to be angry that I did not have them. Theoretically, I was satisfied. I flattered myself that I had limited my wants. But I was subject to irritation; I used to have morbid sterile hateful fits of hunger, of desire. Now I really am satisfied, because I can’t think of anything better. It’s just as when one has been trying to spell out a book in the twilight, and suddenly the lamp comes in. I had been putting out my eyes over the book of life, and finding nothing to reward me for my pains; but now that I can read it properly I see that it’s a delightful story.”

Henry James,    The Portrait of a Lady

“It’s time to start living the life you’ve imagined.”

Henry James

“She feels in italics and thinks in CAPITALS.”
Henry James

“I don’t want everyone to like me; I should think less of myself if some people did.”
Henry James

“Sorrow comes in great waves…but rolls over us, and though it may almost smother us, it leaves us.  And we know that if it is strong, we are stronger, inasmuch as it passes and we remain.”
Henry James

“I’m yours for ever–for ever and ever.  Here I stand; I’m as firm as a rock. If you’ll only trust me, how little you’ll be disappointed. Be mine as I am yours.”

Henry James,    The Portrait of a Lady

“…I am incapable of telling you not to feel. Feel, feel, I say – feel for all you’re worth, and even if it half kills you, for that is the only way to live…”
Henry James

 

“If one is strong, one loves the more strongly.”

Henry James,    The Portrait of a Lady

“Her reputation for reading a great deal hung about her like the cloudy envelope of a goddess in an epic.”

Henry James,    The Portrait of a Lady

“I call people rich when they’re able to meet the requirements of their imagination.”  Henry James,    The Portrait of a Lady

“Be not afraid of life believe that life is worth living and your belief will create the fact.”

Henry James

“She is written in a foreign tongue.”

Henry James,    The Portrait of a Lady

“Things are always different than what they might be…If you wait for them to change, you will never do anything.”

Henry James,    The Portrait of a Lady

 

“You wanted to look at life for yourself – but you were not allowed; you were punished for your wish. You were ground in the very mill of the conventional.”
―    Henry James,    The Portrait of a Lady

La magia del tè

“L’amore e lo scandalo sono i migliori dolcificanti del tè.”
Henry Fielding, Love in Several Masques, 1728

L’arte di bere il tè è un poema ritmato da movimenti  armoniosi.

Nitobe Inazō

Ho sempre paura che la creazione possa finire prima dell’ora  del tè.
Sydney Smith

Il tè si beve per dimenticare il frastuono del mondo.
T’ien Yiheng

Il tè per gli inglesi è davvero un pic-nic al coperto.
Alice Walker

Autumn: Old ponds

 Autumn_by_the_old_pond

Autumn_by_the_old_pond

Della mia anima al fondo
e al fondo d’una vallata d’autunno
giace uno stagno profondo,
la memoria di cio’ che fummo.

 

Riflesso

Riflesso

Dormon nel seno di quello
con le lor parvenze immemorabili
ombre che un magico appello
solleva da letti inscrutabili.

 

Old bench under the tree near a pond

Old bench under the tree near a pond

Ma che son, parvenze e tempo,
sotto i rami che s’allaccian dei pioppi?
sotto il mulino dal tetto
antico, e i rosseggianti coppi?

 

Cerchi

Cerchi

Sotto le tenere erbe
che s’avviluppano lungo la sponda,
la cui radice si perde
nella terra bruna e nell’onda?

Il sole e la luna e l’ombre
abitan perennemente quell’acque
dove trasalgon le fronde
al vento che non si tace;

Japanese pond

Japanese pond

e in trasparenti riflessi
ondeggiando, e in abissali connubi
scendono, in seno agli spessi
sogni, l’ombre d’oggi e le nubi.

(“Di uno stagno campestre”, Carlo Betocchi)

Harry Kellow “Old pond”

Just a whisper of the wind in the cool air,
While walking the country side, so  fair,
As winds blew leaves of silver and gold,
The old trees cracked,  while standing,
So bright and bold.

 The Old Pond on Lewis Road

The Old Pond on Lewis Road

Swans swimming, near water lilies through,
As I sit close to the water  with fresh air all around,
The calmness was still, not even a sound.
I  looked at my reflection, floating there,
With sunlight glowing around my face  and hair.
"The old pond", John Rivera

“The old pond”, John Rivera

I came to a pond, all clear and blue,
As water flowing over rocks hidden in the sand,
I felt the cool,  as water rolled over my hand.
The country so green, flowers blooming astray,
The contentment feeling, overwhelmed, as I walked away.  
(A quiet moment, Carolyn Thomas Langston )

Source:  A Quiet Moment, Pond Poems http://www.poetryinnature.com/nature/poetry.asp?poem=1781#ixzz2BXGIkjFb http://www.PoetryInNature.com

Lilac and purple

Ricordi sbocciavan le viole
con le nostre parole:
-Non ci lasceremo mai,
mai e poi mai-.
Fabrizio De Andre’  (“Canzone dell’amore perduto”)

 

Il profumo di glicine dissipi

l’odor di muffa e di cotogna. Sotto

la viva luce palpiti il salotto!

E il mio sogno riveda i suoi principi.

Guido Gozzano , I sonetti del ritorno

 

It’s iris time! It’s iris time! ‘Twixt tulip-days and rose,
The garden walls
in iris time with purple splendor glows,
The leafy spears are on parade, the
bugles of the June,
Summons each bud and bloom and blade with sturdy marching
tune.

Iris time, Anne H. Spicer

Eccolo, ero morto?, sui
bastioni del vascello – irreali
come quest’aria che non conosco da piccolo,
o questa lingua di italici
pagani o servi di chierici – i bui
festoni dei glicini. Il quartiere ricco
n’e’ pieno dappertutto. Spiccano
viola nel viola delle nuvole e dei viali.
Assurdo miracolo, per un’anima
per cui contano, gli anni,
che sono stati per lei ogni volta immortali.

Pier Paolo Pasolini  (Da: “La religione del mio tempo“)

 

… frustando il cavallo come un ciuco

tra i glicini e il sambuco, il Re si dileguo’.

Fabrizio De Andre’ – Paolo Villaggio

(Da, Carlo Martello ritorna dalla battaglia di Poitier”)

 

Ogni istante dei nostri incontri
lo festeggiavamo come un’epifania,
soli a questo mondo. Tu eri
più ardita e lieve di un’ala di uccello,
scendevi come una vertigine
saltando gli scalini, e mi conducevi oltre l’umido lillà nei tuoi possedimenti
al di là dello specchio

Arsenij Tarkovskij  Primi Incontri

 

Lavenders green, dilly dilly, lavenders blue.

When you love me, dilly dilly, I will love you.

A penny for your thoughts my dear,

A penny for your thoughts my dear,

I.O.U. for your love, I.O.U. for your love.

For your love, for your love, for your love.

Marillon

 

The painted veil

“If nobody spoke unless he had something to say, the human race would very soon
lose the use of speech.” (Kitty Fane)

***

On the way to Mai-tan-fu

On the way to Mai-tan-fu

“THEY were reaching their destination at last. They were borne in chairs, day after day, along a narrow causeway between interminable rice-fields. They set out at dawn and travelled till the heat of the day forced them to take shelter in a wayside inn and then went on again till they reached the town where they had arranged to spend the night. Kitty’s chair headed the procession and Walter followed her; then in a straggling line came the coolies that bore their bedding, stores, and equipment. Kitty passed through the country with unseeing eyes.” (The painted veil)

Loneliness

“She told herself that she hated and despised him; but she had no idea how she was going to live if she was never to see him again. If Walter was taking her to Mei-Tan-Fun as a punishment he was making a fool of himself, for what did she care now what became of her? She had nothing to live for any more. It was rather hard to be finished with life at twenty-seven.”

Kitty and Waddington

“Tao. Some of us look for the Way in opium and some in God, some of us in whiskey
and some in love. It is all the same Way and it leads nowhither.” (Waddington)

Kitty

At this point of the story, in the most recent film, directed by John Curran and adapted to the screen by Ron Nyswaner, the plot takes a new direction: this version of the story lulls you by turning Maugham’s distaff bildungsroman into a fine romance.

Kitty falls in love with Walter

Dry as dust on the page and nearly as hard to grab hold of, Walter registers as a far more robust character on the screen. The novel centers on Kitty and contains large swaths of her cogitating and fretting by way of the third person narration, but the film opens up the story to embrace her and Walter more equally.

Autumn

Foliage

O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stain’d
With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit
Beneath my shady roof; there thou may’st rest,
And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe,
And all the daughters of the year shall dance!
Sing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers.

To Autumn, William Blake

When the frosty kiss of Autumn in the dark
Makes its mark
On the flowers, and the misty morning grieves
Over fallen leaves;

Then my olden garden, where the golden soil
Through the toil
Of a hundred years is mellow, rich, and deep,
Whispers in its sleep.

Autumn in the GardenHenry Van Dyke

Foliage, stairway

As Summer into Autumn slips
And yet we sooner say
“The Summer” than “the Autumn,” lest
We turn the sun away,

 

Floating foliage

Floating foliage

And almost count it an Affront
The presence to concede
Of one however lovely, not
The one that we have loved —

 

the haunted wood

the haunted wood

So we evade the charge of Years
On one attempting shy
The Circumvention of the Shaft
Of Life’s Declivity.

As Summer into Autumn slips Emily Dickinson

 

the golden tree

the golden tree

Che dolcezza infantile

nella mattinata tranquilla!

C’è il sole tra le foglie gialle

e i ragni tendono fra i rami

le loro strade di seta…

Mattino d’autunno (F.G. Lorca)

 

Felci

Felci

Ma dove ve ne andate,

povere foglie gialle,

come tante farfalle

spensierate?

Venite da lontano

o da vicino?

Da un bosco

o da un giardino?

E non sentite la malinconia

del vento stesso

che vi porta via?

Foglie gialleTrilussa

L’autunno c’è già
cadono foglie lievi
tra i miei occhi.
Autunno, Haiku

Autunno mansueto, io mi posseggo
e piego alle tue acque a bermi il cielo,
fuga soave d’alberi e d’abissi.

Aspra pena del nascere
mi trova a te congiunto;
e in te mi schianto e risano:
povera cosa caduta
che la terra raccoglie.
Autunno, Salvatore Quasimodo

Foliage, Oregon

Foliage, Oregon

Go, sit upon the lofty hill,
And turn your eyes around,
Where waving woods
and waters wild
Do hymn an autumn sound.
The summer sun is faint on them

The summer flowers depart —
Sit still — as all transform’d to
stone,
Except your musing heart. […]

The Autumn, Elizabeth Barrett Browning