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Salmo

 



Τῷ πατρί μου, μετὰ πολλῆς ἀγάπης, οὗ ὁ βίος χόλος μόνος ἦν
Patri meo, multo amore: vita illi sola ira

Concepito come uomo è stato
In un giorno che fu di neve e freddo
Dall’alto Dio gli gettò il suo fiato.

Non brilli su di lui luce del guardo
A lui inquietudine e voci dentro
Viva solo d'influsso e d'azzardo.

Come ecclisse la notte sia il centro
Quella notte a lui stia infeconda
Stia a lui sole nero qual epicentro.

Attenda della luce scender l'onda
Non veda mai i guizzi dell’aurora
Si chiuda il varco dell'alta sponda.

Che dal grembo materno venga remora
Via dagli occhi viva tanta miseria
Che'l seno materno il foco divora.

Perché non spirato in quella materia?
O sulle ginocchia appena accolto
Dalle mammelle morir di penuria?

Ora viver di silenzio avvolto
Tranquillo goder ora il riposo
Ché sua venuta fu infin aborto.

Come uomo il cui cammino è ascoso
Che Dio da ogni parte ha sbarrato
La rabbia fu il cibo unico desioso.

Il viver suo sol gemito odiato
Senza tranquillità, e senza pace 
Mai riposo - unico il tormento dato.



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