IN DIREZIONE OSTINATA E CONTRARIA

(TIM BUCKLEY)

Long afloat on shipless oceans
I did all my best to smile
'Til your singing eyes and fingers
Drew me loving to your isle
And you sang
Sail to me
Sail to me
Let me enfold you
Here I am
Here I am
Waiting to hold you

Did I dream you dreamed about me?
Were you hare when I was fox?
Now my foolish boat is leaning
Broken lovelorn on your rocks,
For you sing, 'Touch me not, touch me not, come back tomorrow:
O my heart, O my heart shies from the sorrow'

I am puzzled as the newborn child
I am troubled at the tide:
Should I stand amid the breakers?
Should I lie with Death my bride?
Hear me sing, 'Swim to me, Swim to me, Let me enfold you:
Here I am, Here I am, Waiting to hold you'

 

Your baby blues
so full of wonder
your curley cues
your contageous smile
and as i watch
you start to grow up
all I can do is hold you tight

knowing clouds will raise up
storms will race in
but you will be safe in my arms
rains will pour down
waves will crash all around
but you will be safe in my arms

story books full of fairy tales
kings and queens and the bluest skies
My heart is torn just in knowing
you'll someday see the truth from lies

knowing clouds will raise up
storms will race in
but you will be safe in my arms
rains will pour down
waves will crash all around
but you will be safe in my arms

Castles they might crumble
dreams may not come true
but you are never all alone
because I will always
always love you

clouds will raise up
storms will race in
but you will be safe in my arms
rains will pour down
waves will crash all around
but you will be safe in my arms

 

PLUMB

And there you see the distinction between our feelings: had he been in my place and I in his, though I hated him with a hatred that turned my life to gall, I never would have raised a hand against him. You may look incredulous, if you please! I never would have banished him from her society as long as she desired his. The moment her regard ceased, I would have torn his heart out, and drank his blood! But, till then — if you don’t believe me, you don’t know me — till then, I would have died by inches before I touched a single hair of his head!

 

ECLIPSE

“I’m not going to kill you now. “But if you ever bring her back damaged again — and I don’t care whose fault it is; I don’t care if she merely trips, or if a meteor falls out of the sky and hits her in the head — if you return her to me in less than the perfect condition that I left her in, you will be running with three legs. Do you understand that, mongrel?”

 “And if you ever kiss her again, I will break your jaw for her,” “You might want to wait for her to say it, rather than trust your interpretation of body language — but it’s your face.” “She is mine.” “I didn’t say I would fight fair.”

"I don't scare you?" he asked playfully, but I could hear the real curiosity in his

soft voice.

"No more than usual."

He smiled wider; his teeth flashed in the sun.

I inched closer, stretched out my whole hand now to trace the contours of his

forearm with my fingertips. I saw that my fingers trembled, and knew it wouldn't

escape his notice.

"Do you mind?" I asked, for he had closed his eyes again.

"No," he said without opening his eyes. "You can't imagine how that feels." He

sighed.

I lightly trailed my hand over the perfect muscles of his arm, followed the faint

pattern of bluish veins inside the crease at his elbow. With my other hand, I

reached to turn his hand over. Realizing what I wished, he flipped his palm up in

one of those blindingly fast, disconcerting movements of his. It startled me; my

fingers froze on his arm for a brief second.

"Sorry," he murmured. I looked up in time to see his golden eyes close again.

"It's too easy to be myself with you."

I lifted his hand, turning it this way and that as I watched the sun glitter on his

palm. I held it closer to my face, trying to see the hidden facets in his skin.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he whispered. I looked to see his eyes watching

me, suddenly intent. "It's still so strange for me, not knowing."

"You know, the rest of us feel that way all the time."

"It's a hard life." Did I imagine the hint of regret in his tone? "But you didn't tell

me."

"I was wishing I could know what you were thinking…" I hesitated.

"And?"

"I was wishing that I could believe that you were real. And I was wishing that I

wasn't afraid."

"I don't want you to be afraid." His voice was just a soft murmur. I heard what he

couldn't truthfully say, that I didn't need to be afraid, that there was nothing to

fear.

"Well, that's not exactly the fear I meant, though that's certainly something to

think about."

So quickly that I missed his movement, he was half sitting, propped up on his

right arm, his left palm still in my hands. His angel's face was only a few inches

from mine. I might have — should have — flinched away from his unexpected

closeness, but I was unable to move. His golden eyes mesmerized me.

"What are you afraid of, then?" he whispered intently.

But I couldn't answer. As I had just that once before, I smelled his cool breath in

my face. Sweet, delicious, the scent made my mouth water. It was unlike

anything else. Instinctively, unthinkingly, I leaned closer, inhaling.

And he was gone, his hand ripped from mine. In the time it took my eyes to

focus, he was twenty feet away, standing at the edge of the small meadow, in the

deep shade of a huge fir tree. He stared at me, his eyes dark in the shadows, his

expression unreadable.

 

"I'm the world's best predator, aren't I? Everything about me invites you in —

my voice, my face, even my smell. As if I need any of that!" Unexpectedly, he

was on his feet, bounding away, instantly out of sight, only to appear beneath the

same tree as before, having circled the meadow in half a second.

"As if you could outrun me," he laughed bitterly.

He reached up with one hand and, with a deafening crack, effortlessly ripped a

two-foot-thick branch from the trunk of the spruce. He balanced it in that hand

for a moment, and then threw it with blinding speed, shattering it against another

huge tree, which shook and trembled at the blow.

And he was in front of me again, standing two feet away, still as a stone.

"As if you could fight me off," he said gently.

I sat without moving, more frightened of him than I had ever been. I'd never seen

him so completely freed of that carefully cultivated facade. He'd never been less

human… or more beautiful. Face ashen, eyes wide, I sat like a bird locked in the

eyes of a snake.

His lovely eyes seem to glow with rash excitement. Then, as the seconds passed,

they dimmed. His expression slowly folded into a mask of ancient sadness.

"Don't be afraid," he murmured, his velvet voice unintentionally seductive. "I

promise…" He hesitated. "I swear not to hurt you." He seemed more concerned

with convincing himself than me.

^*"Don't be afraid," he whispered again as he stepped closer, with exaggerated

slowness. He sat sinuously, with deliberately unhurried movements, till our faces

were on the same level, just a foot apart.

"Please forgive me," he said formally. "I can control myself. You caught me off

guard. But I'm on my best behavior now."

 

"I was afraid… because, for, well, obvious reasons, I can't stay with you. And

I'm afraid that I'd like to stay with you, much more than I should." I looked down

at his hands as I spoke. It was difficult for me to say this aloud.

"Yes," he agreed slowly. "That is something to be afraid of, indeed. Wanting to

be with me. That's really not in your best interest."

I frowned.

"I should have left long ago," he sighed. "I should leave now. But I don't know if

I can."

"I don't want you to leave," I mumbled pathetically, staring down again.

"Which is exactly why I should. But don't worry. I'm essentially a selfish

creature. I crave your company too much to do what I should."

"I'm glad."

"Don't be!" He withdrew his hand, more gently this time; his voice was harsher

than usual. Harsh for him, still more beautiful than any human voice. It was hard

to keep up — his sudden mood changes left me always a step behind, dazed.

"It's not only your company I crave! Never forget that. Never forget I am more

dangerous to you than I am to anyone else." He stopped, and I looked to see him

gazing unseeingly into the forest.

 

"Of course, then you were nearly crushed to death in front of my eyes. Later I

thought of a perfectly good excuse for why I acted at that moment — because if

I hadn't saved you, if your blood had been spilled there in front of me, I don't

think I could have stopped myself from exposing us for what we are. But I only

thought of that excuse later. At the time, all I could think was, 'Not her.'"

He closed his eyes, lost in his agonized confession. I listened, more eager than

rational. Common sense told me I should be terrified. Instead, I was relieved to

finally understand. And I was filled with compassion for his suffering, even now,

as he confessed his craving to take my life.

 

He met my eyes again, and they were surprisingly tender.

"And for all that," he continued, "I'd have fared better if I had exposed us all at

that first moment, than if now, here — with no witnesses and nothing to stop me

— I were to hurt you."

I was human enough to have to ask. "Why?"

"Isabella." He pronounced my full name carefully, then playfully ruffled my hair

with his free hand. A shock ran through my body at his casual touch. "Bella, I

couldn't live with myself if I ever hurt you. You don't know how it's tortured

me." He looked down, ashamed again. "The thought of you, still, white, cold…

to never see you blush scarlet again, to never see that flash of intuition in your

eyes when you see through my pretenses… it would be unendurable." He lifted

his glorious, agonized eyes to mine. "You are the most important thing to me

now. The most important thing to me ever."

 

You already know how I

feel, of course," I finally said. "I'm here… which, roughly translated, means I

would rather die than stay away from you." I frowned. "I'm an idiot."

"You are an idiot," he agreed with a laugh. Our eyes met, and I laughed, too. We

laughed together at the idiocy and sheer impossibility of such a moment.

"And so the lion fell in love with the lamb…" he murmured. I looked away,

hiding my eyes as I thrilled to the word.

"What a stupid lamb," I sighed.

"What a sick, masochistic lion."

 

TWILIGHT

 

In this world you tried
Not leaving me alone behind
There's no other way
I'll pray to the gods let him stay
The memories ease the pain inside,
Now I know why

All of my memories keep you near
In silent moments
Imagine you'd be here.
All of my memories keep you near,
Your silent whispers, silent tears

Made me promise I'd try
To find my way back in this life
I hope there is a way
To give me a sign you're okay
Reminds me again it's worth it all
So I can go home

All of my memories keep you near
In silent moments
Imagine you'd be here
All of my memories keep you near
Your silent whispers, silent tears

Together in all these memories
I see your smile
All of the memories I hold dear
Darling, you know I'll love you
till the end of time

All of my memories keep you near
In silent moments,
Imagine you'd be here
All of my memories keep you near,
Your silent whispers, silent tears

 

WITHIN TEMPTATION

Con grande abilità, in ordine al convincere suadente ed elegante.

Se la si sa cogliere, si ha subito l'identificazione di ciò che si vede, e dura tutta una vita.

E' l'arte del persuadere che sconfigge il falso. La forma elegante di dire il vero. Ma dall'inganno sua vita riceve.

L'aggancio che al contesto particolare riceve non è un dubbio, che contro si sia scagliato, contesta la tecne. In principio era l'oggetto in vista del bene.

L'arte del sanare. La pratica dei corpi posti in una tuttologia.

Nel prosieguo non c'è arte, è lusinga contraffatta; anima e corpo distinti in sostanza si prendono cura medesima in questo dialogo.

La prima testimonianza. La fonte.

Gli schemi di ragionamenti dei luoghi, una via per... essere capaci di evitare di essere confutati. Evitare e a sua volta essere evitati; il controcanto dell'opera giovanile perduta, il risvolto.

Modo per fermare il tempo insieme all'orologio, ma il tempo aihmè! non coincide.

Vita brevis.

Poesia comica. Parte recitata che torna indietro con la strofa; avanti e dietro, due facce legate da diverse medaglie. Le due facce della poesia tragica, stranamente dissimili in parte.

Artifici scenografici su colui che pratica esternazioni di sentimenti... cercare di vincere sull'avversario sulla base di ragionevoli passioni.

Punto in comune. Opinioni notevoli.