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 have proposed HERE finds its perfect explanation in Saint Paul, Epistle to the Romans 1:19: τ ὸ γνωστὸν τοῦ θεοῦ φανερόν ἐστιν ἐν αὐτοῖς, ὁ θεὸς γὰρ αὐτοῖς ἐφανέρωσεν — “that which may be known of God has been made manifest in them (in men), for God has manifested it unto them”. Poetry unveils within the human being the need to be human, that is, the need for Beauty, the need to feel Beauty within oneself and alongside oneself; and this feeling is sustained by divine light. Since we are influenced by the Augustinian idea of saeculum , we hold that poetry belongs to the saeculum and therefore comes to a halt upon the threshold of divine light [I] without crossing it, though perceiving the light that lies beyond that threshold. We are led to that threshold by the human feeling of Beauty that dwells within us and guides us to that point: to that door which cannot be crossed in our human condition. And yet, the mere act of stan...
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