Gianmaria Testa: Aerial View

 

Gianmaria Testa (right) in concert with Paolo Fresu. Ludwigsburg castle,
Germany, June 2011. Photo by Johannes Beilharz.

Aerial View

Of this aerial view 
Almost nothing remains
The ghost of the steeple 
No longer smiles
Gliding over the ancient hills 
Again and again
You meet nothing 
But worn-out straw hats
The glasses are empty 
But no one notices
The glasses are empty 
And no one notices.
And you
What will you do tomorrow
And you
What will you do tomorrow

Of this season gone I won't forget anything 
Unless September insists 
On erasing it
Talking again and again 
About what has just been 
I unwillingly wipe the salt 
Off my hands
The glasses were full 
And someone emptied them
The glasses were full 
But someone emptied them
Now I know 
What you'll do tomorrow
Now I know 
What you'll do tomorrow

– Gianmaria Testa (1958-2016)

Title of Italian original: Veduta aerea. Translated by Johannes Beilharz (© 2022). The song is from the album Altre Latitudini of 2003.

The following video shows Gianmaria Test performing the song at another venue in the same area of Germany (Baden-Württemberg), the Franz K. in Reutlingen (May 4, 2010). 

Labordeta - Aragón

José Antonio Labordeta

Aragón

   

Polvo, niebla, viento y sol,

Donde hay agua una huerta.

Al Norte los Pirineos:

Esta tierra es Aragón.

Al Norte los Pirineos

Al Sur la tierra callada.

Pasa el Ebro por el centro

Con su soledad a la espalda.

Dicen que hay tierras al Este

Donde se trabaja y pagan.

Hacia el Oeste el Moncayo

Como un Dios que ya no ampara.

Desde tiempos a esta parte

Vamos camino de nada.

Vamos a ver cómo el Ebro

Con su soledad se marcha.

Y con él van en compaña

Las gentes de estas vaguadas,

De estos valles, de esta sierra,

De estas huertas arruinadas.

Polvo, niebla, viento y sol,

Donde hay agua una huerta.

Al Norte los Pirineos:

Esta tierra es Aragón.

**********

Aragon

   

Dust, fog, wind and sun,

Where there is water an orchard.

To the North the Pyrenees:

This land is Aragon.

To the North the Pyrenees

To the South the quiet land.

The Ebro flows through the center

With its solitude at its back.

They say there are lands to the East

Where there’s work and they pay.

To the West the Moncayo

Like a God that no longer protects.

Since time immemorial

We are on our way to nothing.

Watching the Ebro

Carry away its loneliness.

And with it go in company

The people of these meadows,

Of these valleys, these mountains,

These ruined orchards.

Dust, fog, wind and sun,

Where there is water an orchard.

To the North the Pyrenees:

This land is Aragon.

English translation by Johannes Beilharz.

A poem a day

... keeps the doctor away.

Well, hopefully that mutation of the apple proverb is true because I'm about to go insane and definitely do not want to see THAT doctor.

What is causing bouts of insanity?

WORK.

Translation of a list of terms for a well-known tractor company, to be precise.

Whatever variants of whatever you could come up with they have come up with.

And all nice and cryptic, like:

HVAC door open (low side output)

I'd be so happy to never ever again have to deal with an HVAC and whatever high or low side and input or output it might have.

– Leonard "Disgruntled" Blumfeld