The Prosaic Code

By Edda Tassi

The power of Nature is the only certainty that the human can have in his short life. The animals and the plants live without any distance from this paradise. The human tries to enter the mystery of Nature with science and art, but he must respect the eternal green book . Some terrorist goes around the planet, setting fire to the most beauti

• Language: English
• Publisher: Norman Valdez
• Release date: Jun 30, 2020
• ISBN: 9780992019990

Edda Tassi

Edda Tassi ha conseguito la prima laurea in Lettere e Filosofia all'università di Perugia. Successivamente ella ha conseguito una seconda laurea all'Università "La Sapienza" di Roma. Edda è molto amata e rispettata nelle università e negli ambienti lettererari di tutto il mondo, specie degli Stati Uniti, per il suo sito web letterario, che ha passato il mezzo miliardo di accessi.

Book preview

A love poison

1

You’re not able to destroy Nature

because it is capable of submitting

to any aberration.

It destroyes you after every its violation.

When the singer is coming on the climb

like an old priest waiting for his last days

close the doors immediately

because Death is together with him.

Isn’t the wind ringing the doorbell.

Close your door to the singer!

Double-headed January watches the last year

hoping that the new will be better.

He’s eating and drinking red wine.

He cut some firewood with his axe

so the flame spreads like wildfire.

February gets ready his tools

for the jobs of March

that prunes the vines.

April announces the Resurrection

and May incites the wars

because the humans need them

for trample down Earth quickly.

June harvests the highest ears

to feed in abundance all the people.

July helps June to finish the jobs

without a hand , with a broken scythe

but with a filled up sack.

August picks fruit

running with the hare

and hunting with the hounds.

September will fill up the wine barrels

with a delicious grape juice.

The bearded October seeds very tired.

The splendid November looking down

picks the turnip-tops

until December that slaughters the pig.

Then the turn of the wheel begins again

under an unknown firmament

still to explore endless.

2

Come out from the shadow

abandon the torn sheet

oh, my hermit

oh, alien musician!

Don’t you see where we’re?

You’re searching your father in the sky.

You’re hang up like a vampire

between here and nothingness.

You know that exists only

this hour of the cicadas in the field

like the music notes. Play now, please!

Even if you’re dead mysteriously.

We’re together, flying

over the war in Beirut.

Too smoke. Don’t you see your father?

The guitar is over the hill

how if Marc were here

to paint nervously. Ciao, Sid! Adios.

You will play forever and ever

while I’ll write my moans.

The cows graze at the broken wall.

You’re in a unknown place

and your English ghost is playing

together the cicadas in the field.

He watches my terrace from the shadow.

I laugh, while Sid cries hopeless.

3

I had been poisoned when I was young.

I crazy. I went around like a star

never felt down

because it made by someone

expert about its low light.

The true origin of the best things in the Earth.

While so many people prayed the Gods

I followed the blind singer.

They pull away his eyes

so he wouldn’t judge the king.

Still the storm carries around

the invisible atoms of my body

that fall over your world

burnt from murder hands

close to Hercules columns.

You see a war in progress

asking how much it will last.

You want to be happy

among fanaticals, idols, prayers

that want the temple blow up.

The people following mad prophecies.

Don’t be afraid.

Preserve my atoms too!

So the tide will lull you.

Arthur will catch you smiling

while you imagine the ancient scientists

into every rebuilt temple.

The Nature creates and disintegrates

more than every bad, powerful man.

After a thunder, here’s the raimbow

so nothing dies truly.

This is happiness

without a dangerous, religious exaltation.

4

Someone opens the white spaces

leaving the numbers, the scannings

without to go back among the ruins

that the history accumulates careless

stone upon stone .

The temples, the churches, the theatres of laceratings

the synagogue , the broken column

from where come out the human tragedies?

From the Pandora’s box, of course, bought

at the Western second-hand market .

Stupid well-off persons even more coward

in front of the gold palaces

in front of the royal palaces

filled with bombs and rockets.

People die of hunger , of thirst , of aids

of