Thursday, January 20, 2011

New Born Baby Wishes For My Sister


What are your relations with the Moon?
I are fascinated, and when the monthly antiques market, which also sells books and old stuff, I saw a book entitled Discovering the moon, I could not take it.
since prehistoric times, the Moon has always appealed to her to be volatile and to be connected to the rhythms of agriculture.
For its change form gave rise to life the myths and increasingly strange as that of Endymion. He was loved by Selene, the goddess of the moon in Greek mythology, in which he fell asleep while to visit him and gave him a long sleep 50 years.

The Rise of Endymion of Anne-Louis Girodet de Roussy-Triosonatas, 1791

Selene and Endymion by Sebastiano Ricci , 1713

Diana and Endymion Jerome Martin Langlois, 1822

Endymion and Selene , Pompeian fresco

Diana and Endymion Magnus Enckell, 1921

The young Endymion , photos of Julia Margaret Cameron, 1873

Diana and Endymion Domingo Alvarez Enciso, 1780

Endymion is also the title of a poem John Keats:

One beauty is a joy forever: It
enhances its charm and never in
You will lose nothing, we will always
quiet refuge full of dreams and sleep
Sweets, and calm breathing and salvation.
A wreath today so haunting weave
Fiorito, to tie to the land,
Malgarbo worth of inhumanity and evil days
scarcity is noble natures,
Despite the dark and risky paths
What we have to go in search
Yes, despite everything , the veil from our Sprint
Sad beauty is some form removes
And I'm the sun and the moon on old trees
And the young and rich shadows to give crude
Humble, the daffodils are
and the green world they live in, the clear streams
What a cool carpet invented
In the warm season, the bushes
stained pink flowers in the middle of the woods
And so is the greatness of the destiny
That to powerful images of the dead;
Stories beautiful that we have read or heard:
A source of water is always alive and immortal

other works inspired by the myth can be found here .
Another useful site is The Circle of Women , but the boys do not feel excluded because there were dinitĂ  men linked to the moon in Sumerian mythology as it does with the god Nanna or Sin in Akkadian

The Moon appears to be blank at first and then feared as the New Moon and the myth is in the threefold Hecate:

Hecate, a Roman copy

Hecate or the three Fates of William Blake, 1795
Dread as is Lilith:

But one must not look at these last two figures with malignancy, superficiality and ignorance as has been done for centuries because the Moon always hides a veil, but caution should be exercised at the end of Actaeon else do that after seeing Diana naked, was mauled by his own dogs

Actaeon surprising Diana in the bath by Titian, 1556-1559

Other poems were inspired by this mysterious celestial body and open with:
Moonlight of Rabindranath Tagore

Calm , calm this restless heart,
you, quiet night of full moon.
too serious concerns, over and over again
burden on my heart.
tears keep burning above the penis.
With your silvery rays,
carriers of dreams and magic,
soft as lotus petals,
or night, come,
caresses my whole being
and let me forget all my pains .
moon of Rabindranath Tagore

as a traveler steps across the sea with thy pale
swinging lantern.
I am a foreigner,
lonely and distracted;
out on the balcony so you charms me,
and take away my heart.

Sadness of the Moon by Charles Baudelaire
In her dreams, the moon is more lazy tonight
like a beautiful woman on pillows deep
that careless caress with his hand and light
before going to sleep her round breasts,

her on the back of a silky soft snow flying
dying s'estenua lost in languor,
eyes continuing the slight appearances
that bloom in the sky like white flowers.

When torpid at times by his idleness
a secret tear escapes and falls on the earth, a poet
night owl picks up with mystical fervor

in the hollow of his hand that tear
pale iridescent chips like d 'opal.
and to remove it from the sun, though hidden in the heart.

The gifts of the Moon by Charles Baudelaire

While sleeping in your crib, the moon, which is a fancy himself, looked out the window and said: "This girl I like." He descended the scale of clouds languidly, and passed silently through the glass. Then he lay down upon thee with soft tenderness of a mother, and laid his colors on your face. So your eyes have been green, and your cheeks unusually pale. Contemplating those visited your eyes are so bizarrely enlarged, and she has so tenderly you choked you remained forever want to cry.
Nell 'expansion of its joy, Moon continued to fill the whole room glow in the dark atmosphere, a poison bright, bright light and all that thought and said, "will suffer eternally the influence of my kiss.'ll Be fine my way. You will love what I love and what I love: water, clouds, silence and the night, the immense sea and green water formless and multiform, the place where you are, the lover who do not know ; monstrous flowers, the scents that are delirious; cats that beano on pianos and moan like women, with a hoarse voice and sweet.
"And you will be loved by my fans, wooed by my admirers. You will be queen of the men with green eyes that I held her throat with my caresses night, those who love the sea, the immense sea, tumultuous and green , water formless and multiform, the place where they are not, the woman who do not know, the flowers resemble the claims of a religion censers unknown scents that will disturb the animals and which are the emblems of their madness. "
Ed e 'this, bloody and expensive spoiled child, that now I'm at your feet, and look across the reflection of your person fearsome deity, the fateful godmother, godmother of the poisoner of all lunatics!

What cry Giuseppe Ungaretti

On summer evenings,
spreading surprise
slow moon, ghost daily
of sad, extreme sun,
cry which awakened?

Luna allusive, go upsetting reckless
in good sleep, the earth hath been absent
that time with delirium
under your caress me down,
and cries, as her mother,
of him and does not stay even one day
a cloak of labile moon.

To the Moon by Giacomo Leopardi

O lovely moon, I remember
That, or the year turns, over this hill
I came full of anguish to behold:
And you hung over those forest
Since you do now, that all the clearing up. But
nebulous and tremulous with tears That I
sorgea the side, to my eyes Your face seemed
that afflict
was my life and it is, or changes his style,
O my beloved moon. And while I gain
remembered, and the range l'Etat
of my pain. Oh, how grateful should
Over time, young people, even when long
hope and has short memory in this course,
The remembrance of things past, which Even
sad, and worry that the hard!

night song of a wandering shepherd Asia Giacomo Leopardi
What are you doing, moon, Heaven? tell me, what you do,
silent moon?
rise in the evening and go,
Contemplating the desert, then you lay. Even
not you pay
to revisit the everlasting streets? Even
not take a shy, you are still vague
of beholding these valleys?
resembles your life
The life of a pastor.
rises in the early dawn;
Move beyond the crude PEL field, and sees
Flocks, fountains' and herbs;
tired then rests upon the evening
never ISMERI.
Tell me, O moon: what is the pastor
his life,
life to you? Tell me, where my wandering tends
This short,
Your immortal course?

Vecchierel white, sick
half-dressed and barefoot,
with heavy bundle on his back,
To mountains and valleys
For acute rocks, sand and high, and broken, the wind
, the storm, and when blaze
The time, and then when it freezes
Run away, run, longs,
Varca streams and ponds,
falls, rises and more and more impatient,
Without laying or refreshment
torn, bloody, and finally ch'arriva
ColĂ  where the road
And where the face was so tiring:
Abyss horrid, vast,
Where is plummeting, forgets everything.
Virgo moon, such
E 'mortal life.

man is born to toil,
And the risk of death is birth. Try
pain and anguish
First, and at the very beginning
The mother and father
The console takes being born.
Then that is growing,
Both of the other claims, and so still
with acts and words with him
Studiasi core
And comfort the human condition:
Other office is not more grateful
ago by relatives to their offspring.
But why give to the sun,
Why stand in life
Who then be consoled for?
If life is misery,
Why are we last?
Intact moon, such
E 'mortal state.
But you're not mortal,
And maybe you say the least of my hauls.

While you, solitary, eternal wanderer, so thoughtful
What are you, perhaps you mean, live
This land
suffer ours, sigh, that is;
Is this death, this supreme
discoloration of the face will
And perish from the earth, and be used less
However, loving companionship. And you certainly understand
The why of things, and see the fruit
Of morn, evening,
of tacit, infinity over time.
You know, you of course, to what sweet love
Rida spring,
Who benefits from the heat, and that Government will pursue it
co 'its ice.
thousand things you know, a thousand discovers, hidden
What are the simple shepherd. Often when I gaze
Star so dumb in the desert floor,
That, in his lap distance, borders on the sky;
Or with my flock to follow
traveling hand in hand;
And when I gaze at the stars in the sky burn;
I say to myself thinking: What
many torches?
What does the infinite air, and that deep
Infinite serenity? what means this great
Loneliness? and what am I?
So I speak with me: and the room
huge and superb,
E dell'innumerabile family
Then both use some skill, so many movements
In each heaven, all earthly things,
turning incessantly,
to return whence I am always moved;
use anyone, no fruit
Guess I do not know. But you for sure,
immortal Young girl, you know everything.
This I know and feel, the endless laps
What, What
of being my frail,
few good or happy
Will fors'altri; me life is bad.

O my flock that position, you blessed Oh, What
your misery, I do not know!
How I envy you!
not only because of shortness of breath
Almost go free;
that every difficulty, any damage,
Each extreme fear now forget;
But never more so boredom does not try.
When you sit in the shade over the grass,
You 'quieted and contented;
And most of the year
Without boredom consumption in that state.
And I still sit over the grass, shade, and a nuisance
me encumbers
mind, and a stimulus nearly
Yes, I fancy, sitting, more than ever are finding from afar
peace or site.
And yet not long for anything,
And I cry cause of this far.
What you enjoy or what, I do not know already
dir, but lucky you are.
And I still enjoy little
O my flock, not only of what I complain.
If you could speak, I ask:
Tell me why lying
A leisurely, lazy,
appeased every animal
Me, if I lie at rest, the tedium axle?

Perhaps s'avess'io
From the wings fly above the clouds, And
enumerate the stars one by one, like thunder
O err yoke of subjugation, I would be happier
, my sweet, raw
I would be happier, white moon.
Or maybe err from the truth,
Mirando another's fate, my thoughts.
Maybe in whatever form, in which
state where, in den or cradle,
E 'disastrous to those born on Christmas Day.

O waning crescent moon Gabriele D'Annunzio

waning crescent moon that shines on the water deserted
or silver sickle, as made of dreams
sways to 'thy mild light down here!

short gasps of leaves
flower billows from 'the forest
exhale to' the sea: I do not sing, do not cry, do not play
pe 's silence is vast.

Terrified of love, pleasure, the people shall
de 'alive he fell asleep.
O waning crescent, as made of dreams
sways to 'thy mild light down here!

Song to the Moon Alda Merini

The moon moans on the bed of the sea, O God
dead scared of these hedges earthly
or how astonished gaze
rising from
darkness to seize the soul wound.

The moon is charged on all our
and even when you're near the end
you smell moon
always on the bushes
tortured by bellows
from parodies of destiny.

I was born gypsy, I have no fixed place in the world, but perhaps
I'll stop your time
enough to give you one kiss of love.

And if I may so bold after these great poems, here is a poem written by me in high school:

Dedication Astra night
My sweet moon
I think because
I feel that
brown earth beneath me.

My sweet moon
that attracts me because
turns his face to those who resemble me.

And as a last treat, I post this video that was deleted in the version we know of Disney's Fantasia:

Kill the Moonlight (Filippo Tommaso Marinetti)

by Well, no.


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