Questa poesia è di Ugo Iginio Tarchetti. Non l'ho scritta io, ma avrei voluto.
Quando bacio il tuo labbro profumato,
Cara fanciulla, non posso obliare
Che un bianco teschio vi è sotto celato
Quando a me stringo il tuo corpo vezzoso
Obliar non poss’io, cara fanciulla,
Che vi è sotto uno scheletro nascosto.
E nell’orrenda visïone assorto.
Dovunque o tocchi, o baci, o la man posi,
Sento sporger le fredde ossa di un morto
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The comparison between poetry and divine light that we proposed HERE finds its perfect explanation in Saint Paul, Letters to the Romans I,19: τὸ γνωστὸν τοῦ θεοῦ φανερόν ἐστιν ἐν αὐτοῖς, ὁ ⸂θεὸς γὰρ αὐτοῖς ἐφανέρωσεν , what can be known of God was manifested to them (in men), indeed God manifested to them. Poetry unveils in the human being the need to be human, i.e.the need for Beauty, for feeling the Beauty in itself and with itself, and this feeling is supported by the divine light. As we are influenced by the idea of Saint Augustine of saeculum , we maintain that poetry belongs to the saeculum and therefore stops on the threshold of the divine light [ I] without crossing that threshold, but it senses the light beyond that threshold. We are taken to that threshold by the human feeling of Beauty within us that leads us up to there: up to that door that it is not possible to cross in our being human, but nevertheless, the very dwelling on that threshold is illuminated by the ve...
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