tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41378656844769617372024-03-18T04:02:31.760+01:00" Le rubriche di Edith "Poesie sulla vita e d'amore. Opinioni e commenti di attualità. Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger154125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4137865684476961737.post-58954136970885944872024-03-07T11:02:00.010+01:002024-03-07T13:35:50.125+01:00Papa Benedetto XVI - Papa Francesco - Papa Giovanni Paolo II<p> </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwWEBOIQIq3OoYOj4o2kBz0Cuu8ioM6aFpUFwiv5n8MmPmW571Q3tj1ZJyAT99yyhnAcX2Sqo_rEw6ElIcXeDtqMSX6m_2Cs51ZKLpRswJTKEwou6peDrCr9Fk1IXGA3c_-k0w37kpZluPZCFVOJEPcS4rdDkasAEqiM1JZgX_C0mf0gHuqVcnGyw3eUs/s1110/I%20TRE%20PAPI.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1110" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwWEBOIQIq3OoYOj4o2kBz0Cuu8ioM6aFpUFwiv5n8MmPmW571Q3tj1ZJyAT99yyhnAcX2Sqo_rEw6ElIcXeDtqMSX6m_2Cs51ZKLpRswJTKEwou6peDrCr9Fk1IXGA3c_-k0w37kpZluPZCFVOJEPcS4rdDkasAEqiM1JZgX_C0mf0gHuqVcnGyw3eUs/s16000/I%20TRE%20PAPI.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Päpste die unsere Zeit<br />zeichneten, Sie verdienen<br />einen grossen<br />DANK!</div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;">I Papi che hanno segnato<br />i nostri tempi<br />meritano un sentito<br />GRAZIE!</p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;">Papa Benedetto XVI - Papa Francesco - Papa Giovanni Paolo II </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><br /><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4137865684476961737.post-60372586399258712082024-03-06T12:46:00.001+01:002024-03-06T12:46:25.379+01:00Che la tenerezza arrivi ai vostri cuori.<p> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZOTiaotN6xTFWJJCkDIPldAstI2Ax-SirAEwVUTlsX7-7auCm72L0oqInqx6hFI5RoxhKKbFefSaq_3QXejBzJzRa3ksynj9Xq-a0r5p_DqnlnydsKMp38Sl_0T3VTnVdo9LTPoP9CEu1OZRbHepW-LmxUEJIx-3h0FWpWhnH08DjatpABAdfJHM-Ji0/s1063/BUONA%20PASQUA%20Papa%20Francesco.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="709" data-original-width="1063" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZOTiaotN6xTFWJJCkDIPldAstI2Ax-SirAEwVUTlsX7-7auCm72L0oqInqx6hFI5RoxhKKbFefSaq_3QXejBzJzRa3ksynj9Xq-a0r5p_DqnlnydsKMp38Sl_0T3VTnVdo9LTPoP9CEu1OZRbHepW-LmxUEJIx-3h0FWpWhnH08DjatpABAdfJHM-Ji0/s16000/BUONA%20PASQUA%20Papa%20Francesco.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p style="text-align: center;">Che la tenerezza arrivi ai vostri cuori.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Papa Francesco</p><p> </p><p> <br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4137865684476961737.post-135073071412135552024-03-05T11:48:00.002+01:002024-03-05T11:48:55.041+01:00Ad un gabbiano!<p> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj97A9XpVgLQDc6OIsOmbvvV3urFmHA55JWi0Q3DEAhJHknc9p6cte7VL6r7D_rzmgAIsXCEM302wW9XFCSxwzCPOrE6N7_GhmfKrIxsFrIpsmvqBkW04t7RX1JY-_hwqrvV5b5DAYXr42EQoAYsGoJCD5MznWw8sryxhFDeVM8IhNNr16hpTIBnGekv8s/s2470/Copia%20di%20IMG_0814bis.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="2470" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj97A9XpVgLQDc6OIsOmbvvV3urFmHA55JWi0Q3DEAhJHknc9p6cte7VL6r7D_rzmgAIsXCEM302wW9XFCSxwzCPOrE6N7_GhmfKrIxsFrIpsmvqBkW04t7RX1JY-_hwqrvV5b5DAYXr42EQoAYsGoJCD5MznWw8sryxhFDeVM8IhNNr16hpTIBnGekv8s/s16000/Copia%20di%20IMG_0814bis.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p style="text-align: center;"> Piccolo, bianco poeta</p><p style="text-align: center;">ci hai lasciato.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Il fiume è così silenzioso senza di te.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Non scrivi più nel cielo</p><p style="text-align: center;">a caratteri d’argento</p><p style="text-align: center;">le tue melodie.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Ritornerai e te ne andrai.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Ritornerai e te ne andrai, sempre.</p><p style="text-align: center;">E come sempre, sai</p><p style="text-align: center;">t’ascolteranno!</p><p style="text-align: center;">Ma, ti prego, gabbiano</p><p style="text-align: center;">torna presto!</p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;">Federico </p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4137865684476961737.post-75472193138987397352024-01-26T09:12:00.007+01:002024-01-26T09:19:43.021+01:00Le persone sono senza frontiere. Curiamole insieme. <p> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirV83B7zWmrMSfO7n4Yct118kqo8We7rHcrsGHYPMomM1ofgfX3X4Cjy-F_JEMDRu-roi2Y0cSYSwBKtL6ISG8vZos0RDFtWqgQ0SLcaLO14cPOfoElHTOYw7RCv8lLsXn5BMbWjFgtuG_BfWKwLMUWaODsGToj96DHzjj4P_WqbCGnvXag8YTmoTcOxM/s1552/SENZA%20FRONTIERE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1049" data-original-width="1552" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirV83B7zWmrMSfO7n4Yct118kqo8We7rHcrsGHYPMomM1ofgfX3X4Cjy-F_JEMDRu-roi2Y0cSYSwBKtL6ISG8vZos0RDFtWqgQ0SLcaLO14cPOfoElHTOYw7RCv8lLsXn5BMbWjFgtuG_BfWKwLMUWaODsGToj96DHzjj4P_WqbCGnvXag8YTmoTcOxM/s16000/SENZA%20FRONTIERE.jpg" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">Medici senza frontiere</p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;"> <br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4137865684476961737.post-57530341757741678832024-01-26T08:53:00.007+01:002024-01-26T09:09:10.059+01:00Il battesimo.<p> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW2TXkXNYtEbfgLNb03zxi0wcfmbQsl0pUcYPbaJr8XcaBYJyNxUhMnUA6D5cOKkXrGgUDK2yWmVvO98HJqrJlIShRJSlJlsXkJMcufshO3em_96Ssm4W7MpMS4HLVoHU3yTbvXkg37iLFIzULoV_qoYI-CPZB3IBdfiCG6zart0Uhbg7DuCR47zdQ7ro/s1280/ai-generated-8403394_1280.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW2TXkXNYtEbfgLNb03zxi0wcfmbQsl0pUcYPbaJr8XcaBYJyNxUhMnUA6D5cOKkXrGgUDK2yWmVvO98HJqrJlIShRJSlJlsXkJMcufshO3em_96Ssm4W7MpMS4HLVoHU3yTbvXkg37iLFIzULoV_qoYI-CPZB3IBdfiCG6zart0Uhbg7DuCR47zdQ7ro/s16000/ai-generated-8403394_1280.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p>Nella profonda fragilità famigliare che contraddistingue questa epoca storica, la madrina o il padrino possono diventare figure importantissime, figure in grado di offrire saldezza, stabilità e speranza nei momenti in cui ogni cosa e ogni valore si confondono.</p><p>Invece ti guardi in giro e ti accorgi che la maggior parte dei bambini, dal punto di vista spirituale, cresce abbandonata a sé stessa. Fanno attività pratiche e niente che riguardi la vita interiore.</p><p><b>Susanna Tamaro</b></p><p><b> </b></p><p><b> </b></p><p><span><span style="font-size: x-small;">Foto di Felix Baby Lama da Pixabay</span></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4137865684476961737.post-58367917224226226912023-12-09T08:55:00.003+01:002023-12-09T09:00:23.691+01:00Leben.<p> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvcnZS107IWwBR3Ofu-lru8GiVGygcTADZrKZ0008MnswOKZL-gBQTPllPHvQZfJ2CUWOmkJ_E90F_awSXyJcFPtvFJPwH30UIDOVAIQmFQX5ymXaMxkmlkrAequ103nYs_lGhvDAJ6HJUWgXEKFSon60HyteDBsgApcuMgiQEoB92ipuOex880FciUMI/s1014/DIPINTO%20LARS%201.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="971" data-original-width="1014" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvcnZS107IWwBR3Ofu-lru8GiVGygcTADZrKZ0008MnswOKZL-gBQTPllPHvQZfJ2CUWOmkJ_E90F_awSXyJcFPtvFJPwH30UIDOVAIQmFQX5ymXaMxkmlkrAequ103nYs_lGhvDAJ6HJUWgXEKFSon60HyteDBsgApcuMgiQEoB92ipuOex880FciUMI/s16000/DIPINTO%20LARS%201.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">Wer andere kennt, ist klug. Wer sich selbst kennt, weise.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Lao-Tse </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Mund gemalt von Lars Höllerer</span><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4137865684476961737.post-48090759787084593902023-12-07T15:35:00.003+01:002023-12-08T17:20:35.728+01:00Abschied.<p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlMhX3Sb_Ex-cH3YUANpzM-wTumKT3JBLwR7eVG5yz7lZXS0BGSkNPD6JVCfV8QaxkYzmMnuat1YD7mFX475epEvZKIEmz6qsgWLJ2c3yPymtkJQQ7OsqwjrwqMCez21LSLrDmeH7MvXnvozEPQ9rvKTC378Cj9BVW3SG9Esep3_mOvs6O6ktwMX5P4rs/s1280/notepad-1130743_1280.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlMhX3Sb_Ex-cH3YUANpzM-wTumKT3JBLwR7eVG5yz7lZXS0BGSkNPD6JVCfV8QaxkYzmMnuat1YD7mFX475epEvZKIEmz6qsgWLJ2c3yPymtkJQQ7OsqwjrwqMCez21LSLrDmeH7MvXnvozEPQ9rvKTC378Cj9BVW3SG9Esep3_mOvs6O6ktwMX5P4rs/s16000/notepad-1130743_1280.jpg" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Ich möchte noch gerne Gedichte schreiben</p><p style="text-align: center;">die erzählen von Glück und Freud</p><p style="text-align: center;">aber die Jahre sind dahin gegangen</p><p style="text-align: center;">und geblieben ist grosse Traurigkeit.</p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;">Iche warte auf mein Ende</p><p style="text-align: center;">und zähle die Stunden oft,</p><p style="text-align: center;">Ich denke so ist das Leben</p><p style="text-align: center;">Ich habe zu viel erhofft. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Edith Bauer</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span>Foto di Dariusz Sankowski da Pixabay</span></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4137865684476961737.post-78248996275720651212023-12-04T15:43:00.005+01:002023-12-08T17:20:48.007+01:00Luna nera.<p> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgZ3kLHloSkr0qnAsW1dpYhjYt8o2MdQXLBgDHvCVZd44Cmrg48M6TZU6e90HZPxLg6ZxvllCfDim4_CpVXukBBQlHzjTUIWLe3ZFmo9bZFSVUFsiHG9qNJGaaw97SlOlMHPI3oG1FzgzfrgQh77gDq_ncWv8ZT9oOXKAUhwKLP_EbxhnTN-v4hqD3jd0/s1034/girl-5760295_1280.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1034" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgZ3kLHloSkr0qnAsW1dpYhjYt8o2MdQXLBgDHvCVZd44Cmrg48M6TZU6e90HZPxLg6ZxvllCfDim4_CpVXukBBQlHzjTUIWLe3ZFmo9bZFSVUFsiHG9qNJGaaw97SlOlMHPI3oG1FzgzfrgQh77gDq_ncWv8ZT9oOXKAUhwKLP_EbxhnTN-v4hqD3jd0/s16000/girl-5760295_1280.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <div style="text-align: center;">Se ti chiedo perchè?</div><div style="text-align: center;">muta rimani!</div><div style="text-align: center;">Mi prendi la sera,</div><div style="text-align: center;">mi avvolgi in silenzio</div><div style="text-align: center;">mi soffochi, mi distruggi - luna nera!</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">Eppure ti amavo!</div><div style="text-align: center;">quando eri rossa, verde, gialla e marrone!</div><div style="text-align: center;">Ora mi sei nemica,</div><div style="text-align: center;">chiudo gli occhi per non vederti!</div><div style="text-align: center;">nel buio, la sera mi ritrovo con te:</div><div style="text-align: center;">luna nera.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Ricordi di Gilda</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="font-size: x-small;">Foto di Syaibatul Hamdi da Pixabay</span></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4137865684476961737.post-21865323382013741572023-07-21T12:32:00.009+02:002023-07-21T12:38:38.685+02:00Wenn ich groß bin, liebe Mutter, werd ich alles für dich tun.<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbokR7szUz_DxlTdkxZFi2vteKE2rvrpjAbRzq-ws7lK87qXZIqXH0wmGAhKs9e1nqFV4zvZfzzCM2mis4hvlMQCYwBVcRK4LRI8NB2ShNFd7WCpN5Hff2ps3HUE7A5dAnY7dE1qsaJkHZ-6b8_dgwMmH5jiN29v9PFuJIMDzUOkHnwUI1B3jnPah2AwE/s1352/baby-g3b73c3130_1280.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbokR7szUz_DxlTdkxZFi2vteKE2rvrpjAbRzq-ws7lK87qXZIqXH0wmGAhKs9e1nqFV4zvZfzzCM2mis4hvlMQCYwBVcRK4LRI8NB2ShNFd7WCpN5Hff2ps3HUE7A5dAnY7dE1qsaJkHZ-6b8_dgwMmH5jiN29v9PFuJIMDzUOkHnwUI1B3jnPah2AwE/s16000/baby-g3b73c3130_1280.jpg" /></a></div><p></p><p><br /></p><p><span data-react-container="true"></span></p><div><div data-e2e-ref="content-body">
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<p>Wenn ich groß bin, liebe Mutter
will ich alles für dich tun,
und dann haben deine Hände
endlich Zeit sich auszuruhn. Wenn die Hähne krähn am Morgen
brauchst du nicht mehr aufzustehn,
denn dann werd ich für dich sorgen
und für dich zur Arbeit gehen.</p>
<p>Wenn du groß bist, lieber Junge
dann wird alles anders sein
stehst du draußen erst im Leben
dann stürmt soviel auf dich ein. Du willst niemals von mir gehen
und du lässt mich doch allein
Du hast Kämpfe zu bestehen
und die Welt wird stärker sein.</p>
<p>Wenn ich groß bin, liebe Mutter
zeig ich dir die ganze Welt
und wir bauen uns ein Häuschen
wos am Besten uns gefällt. Einen Wagen und zwei Pferde
und ein Auto hast du dann
denn für dich, da werd ich sicher
mal ein ganz berühmter Mann.</p>
<p>Wenn du groß bist, lieber Junge
gehst du deinen Weg für dich.
Doch mir bleiben deine Briefe
und das ist genug für mich. Böse Menschen werden kommen
und Enttäuschung für uns zwei
und dann läufst du in Verblendung
an der Muttertür vorbei.</p>
<p>Wenn ich groß bin, liebe Mutter
dann such ich mir eine Frau
daa will ich nur eine nehmen
die so ist wie du genau. Deine Stimme soll sie haben
deine Hände, dein Gesicht
sonst bleib ich mit dir alleine
eine andre will ich nicht.</p><p>Wenn du groß bist, lieber Junge
fliegt der stolze Vogel aus
doch ich warte – fein geduldig
denn ich weiß, du kommst nach Haus. Doch nun leg dich ganz schnell nieder
schlaf nun ein – s´ist höchste Zeit
morgen scheint die Sonne wieder
bist du groß bist hat´s noch Zeit.</p>
<p>Gute Nacht, mein Kind, schlaf ein.</p>
</span>
</div> </div><div data-e2e-ref="content-body"> </div><div data-e2e-ref="content-body"> </div><div data-e2e-ref="content-body"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></div><div data-e2e-ref="content-body"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span>Foto di <a href="https://pixabay.com/it/users/lisaliza-1220601/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=864137" rel="nofollow">Елизавета Кардасева</a> da <a href="https://pixabay.com/it//?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=864137" rel="nofollow">Pixabay</a></span></span></div></div><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4137865684476961737.post-90533468646355561262023-07-21T11:59:00.003+02:002024-01-26T08:54:05.620+01:00L'amicizia si dona.<p> </p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3J5BF6CSornF75EEfODqf5eHkj-1Q5ml99uUe2FopWZQejrOK3CNrTTHHAfkN-ip9Ww8yUKuLldZJR7U1ZMMM_VOEft3NP271FOpSuyy83WTo4o9ucO8eoNcEOKwNUzO-lr9QgQ4VJLRDXABr7rjdEkIsOyXmgDvwWROZG-7ZR73hUR9RBDKRA9IsOkA/s1293/IMG_7859bis.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3J5BF6CSornF75EEfODqf5eHkj-1Q5ml99uUe2FopWZQejrOK3CNrTTHHAfkN-ip9Ww8yUKuLldZJR7U1ZMMM_VOEft3NP271FOpSuyy83WTo4o9ucO8eoNcEOKwNUzO-lr9QgQ4VJLRDXABr7rjdEkIsOyXmgDvwWROZG-7ZR73hUR9RBDKRA9IsOkA/s16000/IMG_7859bis.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p>L'amicizia è un rapporto di donazione reciproco, nell'amicizia vera non c'è alcun rapporto d'interesse e o di fine. Essa si regge sulla gioia e sulla fatica, sulla fedeltà e sull'attenzione, sull'ascolto e sul silenzio, sulla disponibilità e sulla condivisione.</p><p>E' un sentimento nobile e gratuito, perché i rapporti che creano amore non conoscono mai il linguaggio del prezzo. I miei amici coltivano, come me, il dono della discrezione e del rispetto. <br /></p><p><b>Susanna Tamaro</b></p><p><br /></p><p><b> </b></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4137865684476961737.post-15644571540018438642023-06-11T20:39:00.003+02:002023-06-11T20:46:05.781+02:00Non siamo padroni, ma ospiti della terra.<p> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC_cRn7FZVVpmii44IAaTKFfMKMrBhg4zxOHYszpu_2M6sB_rFnLr6QJ-uOti6Nn_9aYECmtfdSDwvzm2ZhbFNUITXX7m4z-r2qLiSNApwnnY52b623Ss4DSnDxd0yaC5_EonCJ2c8nV2uPZpKVKhaEJz5ikctXnuy-2obV_W1Hn6xzPEvpyeTE86J/s850/IMG_2349.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="527" data-original-width="850" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC_cRn7FZVVpmii44IAaTKFfMKMrBhg4zxOHYszpu_2M6sB_rFnLr6QJ-uOti6Nn_9aYECmtfdSDwvzm2ZhbFNUITXX7m4z-r2qLiSNApwnnY52b623Ss4DSnDxd0yaC5_EonCJ2c8nV2uPZpKVKhaEJz5ikctXnuy-2obV_W1Hn6xzPEvpyeTE86J/s16000/IMG_2349.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><div style="text-align: left;">Credo che in questo momento si ponga con molta urgenza il problema delle scelte degli stili di vita. Ogni giorno, con i nostri comportamenti, anche più semplici, noi possiamo contribuire a degradare la terra, oppure a innescare il processo contrario.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Il creato ci è stato affidato e noi siamo stati affidati al creato, non siamo padroni, ma ospiti, e come ospiti dobbiamo osservare le leggi del rispetto e della convivenza.</div><p><b>Susanna Tamaro</b></p><p>1997 <b><br /></b></p><p><br /></p><p>Grazie Susanna per quello che hai scritto.</p><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4137865684476961737.post-9738207241027134082023-05-14T18:51:00.005+02:002023-05-14T19:51:21.650+02:00Utero in affitto.<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh6s7u1LeNy6devsc1luEMH0_rUqRcW_RgMGBt3nvIfSwjXi7h5bMUFmVotgFqbhJQZbPPZhHt9WMCWEbNi7vL6x5A6U_k0XYz0dVjKC6C5_JN9QKmPf1M40F_ubP69SwQ4G4R_sOqhw0AEQ4_DBS2VH7AXkMviHDCZTxCxQe0eEDDKfqmxh1BXVpG/s1920/sun-g5f12c1bca_1920.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1920" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh6s7u1LeNy6devsc1luEMH0_rUqRcW_RgMGBt3nvIfSwjXi7h5bMUFmVotgFqbhJQZbPPZhHt9WMCWEbNi7vL6x5A6U_k0XYz0dVjKC6C5_JN9QKmPf1M40F_ubP69SwQ4G4R_sOqhw0AEQ4_DBS2VH7AXkMviHDCZTxCxQe0eEDDKfqmxh1BXVpG/s16000/sun-g5f12c1bca_1920.jpg" /></a></div><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;">È triste che la donna e il suo corpo sono spesso in vendita.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Si può avere sessualmente e ora la scienza permette di dare l’utero in prestito e a pagamento.</div><div style="text-align: left;">E qui voglio fare subito una domanda - dove sono finiti i bambini nati in Ucraina (in mezzo al covid e alla guerra), qui dove la pratica dell’utero in affitto è permesso dallo stato?</div><div style="text-align: left;">Queste creature portate in grembo da una donna conoscono subito la loro casa, vivono il dolore, la sofferenza e la gioia insieme alle partorienti.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Quando nascono è un distacco disumano, il calore, il profumo, è una forte sofferenza.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Persone generose possono adottare i bambini che nascono in questo mondo crudele, senza avvenire e dare loro calore e l'amore di cui hanno bisogno.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Edith </b><br /></div><p> </p><p> </p><p><span class="attribution_field"><span><span style="font-size: x-small;">Foto di <a href="https://pixabay.com/it/users/stocksnap-894430/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=2570589">StockSnap</a> da <a href="https://pixabay.com/it//?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=2570589">Pixabay</a></span></span></span> <br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4137865684476961737.post-59819743703909005782023-05-14T12:34:00.005+02:002023-05-14T12:43:22.303+02:00Scrivere è una via per conoscersi.<div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD_SxvxxZ_1QhQT8AcpDLPlL-UMWadbip-tE9rywDOu8wwwTwyweXu5n58OA1PcrVVz0O98rDu614ErR0FxB_vCX6oMnFLHlm7WOyrZHJntHzFimh_XQsA_wTjoB8dTJi60s69rFC01cA5ZroKd8u5S1o9xPCyjo0AZlVAXndlXYVug0EaDnlQ4ExX/s1333/IMG_3912.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="903" data-original-width="1333" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD_SxvxxZ_1QhQT8AcpDLPlL-UMWadbip-tE9rywDOu8wwwTwyweXu5n58OA1PcrVVz0O98rDu614ErR0FxB_vCX6oMnFLHlm7WOyrZHJntHzFimh_XQsA_wTjoB8dTJi60s69rFC01cA5ZroKd8u5S1o9xPCyjo0AZlVAXndlXYVug0EaDnlQ4ExX/s16000/IMG_3912.jpg" /></a></div><br /> </div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">Scrivere è una via per conoscersi, per conoscere e per donarsi attraverso la conoscenza.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Non si scrive, non si dovrebbe scrivere, per ricercare l'approvazione e le lodi altrui, ma per far vedere qualcosa che gli altri non vedono.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Le scene del racconto, prima di tutto, vanno "viste": la comunicazione emotiva passa attraverso lo sguardo e non attraverso le elaborazioni razionali del pensiero.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Susanna Tamaro</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b> </b><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4137865684476961737.post-43620320027108592532023-05-04T09:20:00.011+02:002023-05-04T09:21:54.601+02:00Si producono tante cose, troppe cose.<div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_hMKy1ZCZ6tP_F2f2eu12B1E62ImjAJlG4L6iwu2dpcgq3lPBcLreLK3NiyoNSV_UC9zoMh4Aq3pQbYRqTNdCwGRwOat9u9JM0FyMDzo-uC8xF989spQjJObPckAI7uiCglAHGMc2DBJ25qXldwpAJeK0bZf45KUnJYAmc2AJBZhW0kmy60I9xTYf/s1920/poor-g4ff71be85_1920.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1920" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_hMKy1ZCZ6tP_F2f2eu12B1E62ImjAJlG4L6iwu2dpcgq3lPBcLreLK3NiyoNSV_UC9zoMh4Aq3pQbYRqTNdCwGRwOat9u9JM0FyMDzo-uC8xF989spQjJObPckAI7uiCglAHGMc2DBJ25qXldwpAJeK0bZf45KUnJYAmc2AJBZhW0kmy60I9xTYf/w640-h426/poor-g4ff71be85_1920.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">Si producono tante cose, troppe cose.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Producendole, si inducono nuovi bisogni, bisogni per lo più assolutamente vani.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Si consumano così le risorse - che non sono eterne -, si degrada l'ambiente e si allarga in maniera drastica il divario tra un Nord del mondo sempre più ricco e un Sud sempre più povero.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Come non sentirsi impotenti, schiacchiati da un sistema così folle e così lontano dalle esigenze delle persone più consapevoli?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Susanna Tamaro</b><br /></div><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><p style="text-align: left;"><span class="attribution_field"><span><span style="font-size: x-small;">Foto di <a href="https://pixabay.com/it/users/pascualamaia-4708629/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=2489481" rel="nofollow">Amaia pascual</a> da <a href="https://pixabay.com/it//?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=2489481" rel="nofollow">Pixabay</a></span></span></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4137865684476961737.post-53592582377956366762023-04-02T15:16:00.006+02:002023-04-02T15:22:21.410+02:00Frühlingsnacht <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH40FLNscAd7b9c-2xlKnWzBFTFWLnXrOg0XEy42lWLi13fhXgQ3X1VTsQU3Se4vGb6T9KPkXeCZILoZDzU3_j049vLRpXNOOoGlAX2638qHmD9VO63j_JIQfboNaICNRW44mqORTJW_sukY0KD6z7NpSN6VaZAqmI6S7MHRvksmYKwnvUQ9KcTjyg/s906/116335477_1521357941378342_6854502926610371041_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="906" data-original-width="600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH40FLNscAd7b9c-2xlKnWzBFTFWLnXrOg0XEy42lWLi13fhXgQ3X1VTsQU3Se4vGb6T9KPkXeCZILoZDzU3_j049vLRpXNOOoGlAX2638qHmD9VO63j_JIQfboNaICNRW44mqORTJW_sukY0KD6z7NpSN6VaZAqmI6S7MHRvksmYKwnvUQ9KcTjyg/w424-h640/116335477_1521357941378342_6854502926610371041_n.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;">Übern Garten durch die Lüfte <br />
Hört ich Wandervögel ziehn, <br />
Das bedeutet Frühlingsdüfte, <br />
Unten fängts schon an zu blühn. <br />
<br />
Jauchzen möcht ich, möchte weinen, <br />
Ist mir's doch, als könnt's nicht sein! <br />
Alte Wunder wieder scheinen <br />
Mit dem Mondesglanz herein. <br />
<br />
Und der Mond, die Sterne sagen's, <br />
Und in Träumen rauscht's der Hain, <br />
Und die Nachtigallen schlagen's: <br />
Sie ist deine, sie ist dein!</p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Joseph von Eichendorff</b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></p><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Gustav Klimt - La fattoria dei fiori</span><br /><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4137865684476961737.post-61631188223656243572023-03-24T10:14:00.010+01:002023-03-24T10:17:14.295+01:00Maler Frühling.<div><p style="text-align: center;"> <br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2jfOfDmQ8PdB1ky6n2hrlpjaQRnUN68VYnhXMK_tFG8vZYwUeMxoBSFYp3RNuz9ZkisyOkj43JSokAp9OcRo3qJ6HdwBsc6Ar_HhvFj2qWaDhZesPBa7YlB1q2LgcRoBOVbqz7TkpxOa9s9XFAuYKXyCD3faTUhu3xdXfvj-Y1tb2iUtzIp4Yb3c1/s900/IMG_3226.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="651" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2jfOfDmQ8PdB1ky6n2hrlpjaQRnUN68VYnhXMK_tFG8vZYwUeMxoBSFYp3RNuz9ZkisyOkj43JSokAp9OcRo3qJ6HdwBsc6Ar_HhvFj2qWaDhZesPBa7YlB1q2LgcRoBOVbqz7TkpxOa9s9XFAuYKXyCD3faTUhu3xdXfvj-Y1tb2iUtzIp4Yb3c1/w463-h640/IMG_3226.jpg" width="463" /></a></div><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Der Frühling ist ein Maler, <br />
er malet alles an, <br />
die Berge mit den Wäldern, <br />
die Täler mit den Feldern: <br />
Was der doch malen kann! <br /><br />
Auch meine lieben Blumen<br />
schmückt er mit Farbenpracht: <br />
Wie sie so herrlich strahlen! <br />
So schön kann keiner malen, <br />
so schön, wie er es macht. <br /><br />
O könnt ich doch so malen, <br />
ich malt ihm einen Strauß<br />
und spräch in frohem Mute<br />
für alles Lieb und Gute<br />
so meinen Dank ihm aus!</div>
<p></p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>August Heinrich Hoffmann von Fallersleben</b><br />
(1798 - 1874)
</p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Foto Cristina Deboni </span><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4137865684476961737.post-53419103214621609082023-03-23T14:04:00.004+01:002023-03-23T14:09:28.738+01:00Nähe<p> <br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqgzMcZv_jQtwoTpBXE4YZ1kTWqPnsjxo6LgjBUVjB3SwVx3HT7AUh25M6d1SZO1TfE-ucbz--0g-6OIuk0oUbMvhkncdbmhMHwIjexCJwI3tFUAqefUElZA-i2OSLFmSRZ4gHe7TtyIqGOtFBVuhtLLw4h1w4DqTenJ7IZFEoCX8FyK53enXFpx9H/s900/Alfred%20Parsons%20-%20China%20Roses%20Broadway%20-%20(MeisterDrucke-162867).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="696" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqgzMcZv_jQtwoTpBXE4YZ1kTWqPnsjxo6LgjBUVjB3SwVx3HT7AUh25M6d1SZO1TfE-ucbz--0g-6OIuk0oUbMvhkncdbmhMHwIjexCJwI3tFUAqefUElZA-i2OSLFmSRZ4gHe7TtyIqGOtFBVuhtLLw4h1w4DqTenJ7IZFEoCX8FyK53enXFpx9H/s16000/Alfred%20Parsons%20-%20China%20Roses%20Broadway%20-%20(MeisterDrucke-162867).jpg" /></a></div><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;">Ich tret' in deinen Garten;</div><div style="text-align: center;">Wo, Süße, weilst du heut?</div><div style="text-align: center;">Nur Schmetterlinge flattern</div><div style="text-align: center;">durch diese Einsamkeit.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">Doch wie in bunter Fülle</div><div style="text-align: center;">Hier deine Beete stehn!</div><div style="text-align: center;">Und mit den Blumendüften</div><div style="text-align: center;">die Weste mich umwehn!</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">Ich fühle dich mir nahe,</div><div style="text-align: center;">die Einsamkeit belebt,</div><div style="text-align: center;">Wie über seinen Welten</div><div style="text-align: center;">der Unsichtbare schwebt.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Ludwig Uhland </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs xlh3980 xvmahel x1n0sxbx x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u x1yc453h" dir="auto">China Roses, Broadway - Alfred Parsons</span><b> <br /></b></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4137865684476961737.post-61074713084878952942023-01-21T10:30:00.005+01:002023-01-22T17:29:04.290+01:00Zur Erinnerung.<br />
<br />
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb78aBC4wGDxyLAsK0kyG0ZST2sy4-A3r7xJljHGq0WU18bX82P0dSL3WDD2t8ksVmloeMqxLQNpDGcsraaM2jJGWoDkvxQWvBFzbpoo8gYjY3YOPYiygz2ODGesHfV_oCjlf7oHy9re4RJACWSq1v9CIni36ndzr1xoptSGJn539JkATtOuJN8L0O/s723/326411851_1158000241748672_934680406041070105_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="723" data-original-width="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb78aBC4wGDxyLAsK0kyG0ZST2sy4-A3r7xJljHGq0WU18bX82P0dSL3WDD2t8ksVmloeMqxLQNpDGcsraaM2jJGWoDkvxQWvBFzbpoo8gYjY3YOPYiygz2ODGesHfV_oCjlf7oHy9re4RJACWSq1v9CIni36ndzr1xoptSGJn539JkATtOuJN8L0O/s16000/326411851_1158000241748672_934680406041070105_n.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p style="text-align: center;">Manche Menschen</p><p style="text-align: center;">sind zu Grossem auserkoren, <br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Papst Ratzinger war einer von Ihnen.</p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;">Grazie, vielen Dank</p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Edith Bauer </b><br /></p>
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4137865684476961737.post-4603649991703733152023-01-13T11:21:00.007+01:002023-01-13T11:24:36.892+01:00Voglio solo ascoltare la mia anima.<p> </p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVL8VEk1OJfOvPPPKRmrmMHOu8IbwTvqymwu9nTS7ABUuU-D4Ykc2WqoxpqXS39gnYaP5zaRCaxGJbHCYT0s-kRr67gIXtM-f-PTJC9RD9hETlEstJO0XPsO66CZ4dr88fKa8TZWnHzosmawLt6BTVVcot692JccsIVdJ7jU-f4599msUwQlf0iSdq/s800/soldato.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="636" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVL8VEk1OJfOvPPPKRmrmMHOu8IbwTvqymwu9nTS7ABUuU-D4Ykc2WqoxpqXS39gnYaP5zaRCaxGJbHCYT0s-kRr67gIXtM-f-PTJC9RD9hETlEstJO0XPsO66CZ4dr88fKa8TZWnHzosmawLt6BTVVcot692JccsIVdJ7jU-f4599msUwQlf0iSdq/s16000/soldato.jpg" /></a></div><p><br /> </p><div style="text-align: center;">Vi prego</div><div style="text-align: center;">lasciatemi</div><div style="text-align: center;">una buca</div><div style="text-align: center;">sabbiosa</div><div style="text-align: center;">dove non ci sia</div><div style="text-align: center;">nessuno.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Solo</div><div style="text-align: center;">un angolo</div><div style="text-align: center;">buio</div><div style="text-align: center;">da dove</div><div style="text-align: center;">non veda le cose</div><div style="text-align: center;">e il volto</div><div style="text-align: center;">della gente,</div><div style="text-align: center;">della guerra.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Voglio</div><div style="text-align: center;">solo</div><div style="text-align: center;">ascoltare</div><div style="text-align: center;">la mia anima</div><div style="text-align: center;">e i miei pensieri</div><div style="text-align: center;">senza</div><div style="text-align: center;">più</div><div style="text-align: center;">soluzione.</div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Luciano Foscarin </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> Ricordi di Guerra</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Su versi sciolti </div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> </b></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4137865684476961737.post-79855231631869732052023-01-13T08:00:00.002+01:002023-01-13T09:18:59.554+01:00Le persone sono senza frontiere. Curiamole insieme.<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAiHTsmJnmUOxPCNka6zlWwbwQTmgOAaPULKW9K2iVpFx-MrCX3dRPjW2DjYY-ElJT8_06nyFpQuseQKahd3vFVPxHoJGC7jiwQTSkrHBo5grAUAHiAkyXclnUpY7ZDv6VLxqu1Dxx2A2fcwq2tn27ubibcehE9KDAHhl0FyOZD87LexZIOoWb5_iL/s816/BAMBINI.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="816" data-original-width="612" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAiHTsmJnmUOxPCNka6zlWwbwQTmgOAaPULKW9K2iVpFx-MrCX3dRPjW2DjYY-ElJT8_06nyFpQuseQKahd3vFVPxHoJGC7jiwQTSkrHBo5grAUAHiAkyXclnUpY7ZDv6VLxqu1Dxx2A2fcwq2tn27ubibcehE9KDAHhl0FyOZD87LexZIOoWb5_iL/s16000/BAMBINI.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Medici senza frontiere</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4137865684476961737.post-5493518482685027192023-01-12T08:20:00.005+01:002023-01-13T09:38:08.969+01:00Per te figlio mio.<div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMA25lFN1ROFyk6GllR1CcnXU81iidaOcypUYANtX4p28tJtreDYQhXMgaGPL96gsFsgqwORF1fQ1wthl-H4p1M1OAMwxE7Rs56_eIkZseHhCvTlx_zU83BgRi9aALYPxVCaamZP3r99HftpIokyhle4tXhnQ2iAr_53xzlowzPVBKxVasIx0YX7yk/s950/MAMMA%20E%20FIGLIO.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="950" height="506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMA25lFN1ROFyk6GllR1CcnXU81iidaOcypUYANtX4p28tJtreDYQhXMgaGPL96gsFsgqwORF1fQ1wthl-H4p1M1OAMwxE7Rs56_eIkZseHhCvTlx_zU83BgRi9aALYPxVCaamZP3r99HftpIokyhle4tXhnQ2iAr_53xzlowzPVBKxVasIx0YX7yk/w640-h506/MAMMA%20E%20FIGLIO.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">Come sei cresciuto piccolo tesoro</div><div style="text-align: center;">e non ti ricordi che sei sbocciato sotto un cuore.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">Sotto il cuore della tua mamma</div><div style="text-align: center;">che ti ha dato la vita</div><div style="text-align: center;">e con il suo sangue e il suo amore ti ha nutrito.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">Un anno hai, e fai i tuoi primi passi</div><div style="text-align: center;">allunghi le braccia e mi dai dei baci.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">La cosa più bella sono i tuoi occhi</div><div style="text-align: center;">che guardano, ridono e fanno anche i pianti.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">Sei la nostra speranza, tesoro mio</div><div style="text-align: center;">l'uomo di domani, forte e sano.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">Ma intanto impara a camminare ed ad amare,</div><div style="text-align: center;">tu alla vita hai tanto da dare.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Edith Bauer</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"> <br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4137865684476961737.post-32509493914381233212023-01-11T16:03:00.009+01:002023-01-11T17:06:04.741+01:00Lebt Wohl.<p> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfTzBlYx9FgKE0JpKlPI6m1CxBaUV168vwWevxqME_0_IECVdDK89JciIggqb0w5B6dqlNuSMQ1VlH_n7VcIFbWLlM_OeX4wmDg4RL89Jm9az1QPlnFL-FFBU7lpF7RcffnG_qLxyrTteKpLfHMAhhQhBFSOo6V-eElUWl0iUT7_EDOhhb0wrdjGNb/s900/night-g3dfd8c361_1920.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="900" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfTzBlYx9FgKE0JpKlPI6m1CxBaUV168vwWevxqME_0_IECVdDK89JciIggqb0w5B6dqlNuSMQ1VlH_n7VcIFbWLlM_OeX4wmDg4RL89Jm9az1QPlnFL-FFBU7lpF7RcffnG_qLxyrTteKpLfHMAhhQhBFSOo6V-eElUWl0iUT7_EDOhhb0wrdjGNb/s16000/night-g3dfd8c361_1920.jpg" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Weinet nicht an meinem Grab um mich;<br />
Ich bin nicht dort, ich schlafe nicht.<br />
<br />
Ich bin der Wind über dem See,<br />
Kristallglitzer auf dem Winterschnee.<br />
Ich bin am Tag das Sonnengold,<br />
ich bin der Regen herbstlich hold.<br />
<br />
Ich bin das tiefe Himmelsblau,<br />
der schöne, frische Morgentau.<br />
Sucht mich und blickt im Dunkeln in die Ferne –<br />
bei Nacht bin ich das Funkeln der Sterne.<br />
<br />
Zündet für mich eintausend Kerzen an,<br />
und vergeßt mich nie – keine Sekunde lang.<br />
Steht nicht am Grab, die Augen rot.<br />
Ich bin nicht dort, ich bin nicht tot. </p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;">---</p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="HwtZe" lang="it"><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb">Ultimo addio.</span></span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="HwtZe" lang="it"><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="HwtZe" lang="it"><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="HwtZe" lang="it"><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb">Non piangere per me sulla mia tomba;</span></span><span class="jCAhz"><span class="ryNqvb">
</span></span><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="HwtZe" lang="it"><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb">Non ci sono, non dormo.</span></span><span class="jCAhz"><span class="ryNqvb">
</span></span><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="HwtZe" lang="it"><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb">Sono il vento sul lago</span></span><span class="jCAhz"><span class="ryNqvb"> </span></span><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb">scintillante <br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="HwtZe" lang="it"><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb">di cristallo sulla neve invernale.</span></span><span class="jCAhz"><span class="ryNqvb">
</span></span><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="HwtZe" lang="it"><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="HwtZe" lang="it"><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb">Sono l'oro del sole durante il giorno</span></span><span class="jCAhz"><span class="ryNqvb">
</span></span><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="HwtZe" lang="it"><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb">Sono gentile con la pioggia in autunno.</span></span><span class="jCAhz"><span class="ryNqvb"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="HwtZe" lang="it"><span class="jCAhz"><span class="ryNqvb"> </span></span><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb">Sono il profondo blu del cielo</span></span><span class="jCAhz"><span class="ryNqvb">
</span></span><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb">la bella,</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="HwtZe" lang="it"><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb">fresca rugiada mattutina.</span></span><span class="jCAhz"><span class="ryNqvb">
</span></span><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="HwtZe" lang="it"><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="HwtZe" lang="it"><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb">Cercami e guarda lontano nel buio </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="HwtZe" lang="it"><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb"> </span></span><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb">di notte sono il luccichio delle stelle.</span></span><span class="jCAhz"><span class="ryNqvb">
</span></span><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="HwtZe" lang="it"><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="HwtZe" lang="it"><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb">Accendi mille candele per me</span></span><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="HwtZe" lang="it"><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb">e non dimenticarmi mai, </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="HwtZe" lang="it"><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb">nemmeno per un secondo.</span></span><span class="jCAhz"><span class="ryNqvb">
</span></span><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="HwtZe" lang="it"><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb">Non sta vicino alla tomba, gli occhi rossi.</span></span><span class="jCAhz"><span class="ryNqvb">
</span></span><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="HwtZe" lang="it"><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb">Non sono lì, non sono morto.</span></span></span></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span class="HwtZe" lang="it"><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb"> <br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span class="HwtZe" lang="it"><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb"> </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="attribution_field"><span>Foto di Yuri da Pixabay</span></span></span><span class="HwtZe" lang="it"><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span class="HwtZe" lang="it"><span class="jCAhz ChMk0b"><span class="ryNqvb"> </span></span></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4137865684476961737.post-81368150757290255102022-11-17T10:08:00.012+01:002022-12-16T15:03:20.875+01:00Ho visto cadere il mio migliore amico.<p> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpZhzx8UCCtFPjS0-NXp3qFwWUwfS34JXqra83fq0slUt_Cu7fje-vSlyScnll9T1AWejccMl0kLefOw5b-tDrjBHTO7t31nTL9bQJIbtclIid_D2u_4HMrPHrTwKtzRnBEe6hmoLG8ty-WxwMvvs0Kek5HGgi4HGxYCz2ogXcJiLEMb4tQ28YekVZ/s661/soldato.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="479" data-original-width="661" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpZhzx8UCCtFPjS0-NXp3qFwWUwfS34JXqra83fq0slUt_Cu7fje-vSlyScnll9T1AWejccMl0kLefOw5b-tDrjBHTO7t31nTL9bQJIbtclIid_D2u_4HMrPHrTwKtzRnBEe6hmoLG8ty-WxwMvvs0Kek5HGgi4HGxYCz2ogXcJiLEMb4tQ28YekVZ/w640-h464/soldato.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqFmmxYLDlOSWM1d3r1MQJ0auD1LOM_BwuOkQGC45cEF3MX9J5igrX06CjOtdyRIBPPpXw-QMzt0sGZ0ccfXOoigeO7ylxeOOs5dfrac2wBnPtn-bqynEYjQIhXQoUWbt1evlbCSWqAnqJjPZxoO-QUc1D_UXgRMl09xNtffKVgw536wBtrqzREmUW/s900/ho%20visto%20cadere%20AFORISMI%202022.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqFmmxYLDlOSWM1d3r1MQJ0auD1LOM_BwuOkQGC45cEF3MX9J5igrX06CjOtdyRIBPPpXw-QMzt0sGZ0ccfXOoigeO7ylxeOOs5dfrac2wBnPtn-bqynEYjQIhXQoUWbt1evlbCSWqAnqJjPZxoO-QUc1D_UXgRMl09xNtffKVgw536wBtrqzREmUW/s900/ho%20visto%20cadere%20AFORISMI%202022.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;">Ho visto cadere<br />il mio migliore<br />amico<br />in un giorno<br />pieno di sole.<br />Sulle labbra<br />fredde di morte<br />un sorriso.<br />Ho creduto<br />d’essere nato,<br />adulto,<br />in quell’unico mattino.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /><b>Luciano Foscarin </b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Questi ricordi degli anni di guerra sono stati</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>scritti al fronte, sulla sabbia del deserto, sul mare.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Possano essere di monito per quanti ancora non hanno</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>capito che non ha senso vivere per uccidere il prossimo.</i></div><p style="text-align: center;"><i>Luciano Foscarin</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4137865684476961737.post-90475130120681690772022-10-23T09:49:00.010+02:002022-12-17T16:31:56.342+01:00Vent'anni.<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq5SiOQPcavuyXmmgCZyqWpUbKL_DSmnV8LAyM6zE3yEj87Ezi52-ck4YVSCPqoh7KGQAXsgRjv3-3fLJUwpqT5NhBRkmiTxYLwyxu7s6cwutDqVfTfTEtLH6kqoCQcD83HP2AJcxMEzkI1duR-058yKvJdsFWQ73QvoERujEsNdUsn1RWJnJMJdl8/s834/%20Galileo%20Chini%20(Firenze%201873%20-%201956)%20Scena%20di%20guerra%20(L'assalto),%201917-18%20.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="794" data-original-width="834" height="381" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq5SiOQPcavuyXmmgCZyqWpUbKL_DSmnV8LAyM6zE3yEj87Ezi52-ck4YVSCPqoh7KGQAXsgRjv3-3fLJUwpqT5NhBRkmiTxYLwyxu7s6cwutDqVfTfTEtLH6kqoCQcD83HP2AJcxMEzkI1duR-058yKvJdsFWQ73QvoERujEsNdUsn1RWJnJMJdl8/w400-h381/%20Galileo%20Chini%20(Firenze%201873%20-%201956)%20Scena%20di%20guerra%20(L'assalto),%201917-18%20.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;">Vorrei avere anch'io</div><div style="text-align: center;">una camicia</div><div style="text-align: center;">bianca di bucato</div><div style="text-align: center;">e portare</div><div style="text-align: center;">tra la gente</div><div style="text-align: center;">l'immagine</div><div style="text-align: center;">della mia gioia.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Invece ho solo</div><div style="text-align: center;">una camicia Kaki</div><div style="text-align: center;">sporca di sangue </div><div style="text-align: center;">altrui</div><div style="text-align: center;">ed una piccola</div><div style="text-align: center;">anima di cenere</div><div style="text-align: center;">e il dolore</div><div style="text-align: center;">della mia inutile</div><div style="text-align: center;">giovinezza.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Luciano Foscarin </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> Ricordi di Guerra</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Su versi sciolti </div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> <br /></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div id="titleLotto">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Galileo Chini (Firenze 1873 - 1956) </span></div><div id="titleLotto"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Scena di guerra (L'assalto), 1917-18</span></div><div id="titleLotto"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></div><div id="titleLotto"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4137865684476961737.post-15719396350089126172022-10-22T17:33:00.009+02:002022-10-22T17:38:48.134+02:00Ein Lächeln im Vorübergehen.<p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrPe4LOVyd2XVxJQeeBBWa6a0I694y3tgNjy_woRYWc5mQ3d_Z76R_i2zPAZu_Mualo8CfghjG6DxI_YkeBNSnCaHvRUBD6djyf5x-22Nmkr9iMUDqr_54mGIBOgdsf52OdO3-feHy5tdcVJ4Lf_Cc8c6itYlL1LBGfkBL0ULLmOkU6alR9v176ZiK/s1500/225993298_1018130752264195_5579150118865962916_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1481" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrPe4LOVyd2XVxJQeeBBWa6a0I694y3tgNjy_woRYWc5mQ3d_Z76R_i2zPAZu_Mualo8CfghjG6DxI_YkeBNSnCaHvRUBD6djyf5x-22Nmkr9iMUDqr_54mGIBOgdsf52OdO3-feHy5tdcVJ4Lf_Cc8c6itYlL1LBGfkBL0ULLmOkU6alR9v176ZiK/w395-h400/225993298_1018130752264195_5579150118865962916_n.jpg" width="395" /></a></div><p><br /></p><div class="blog--detail-description block" itemprop="articleBody" style="text-align: left;"> <p style="text-align: center;">Einen brauchst du auf dieser Welt,<br />der mit dir weint und lacht,<br />einen, der unbeirrt zu dir hält,<br />der deine Probleme zu seinen macht.</p> <p style="text-align: center;">Einen, der dir dein Glück nicht neidet,<br />dich über Schwellen trägt,<br />einen, der dir Freude bereitet<br />und helle Spuren legt.</p> <p style="text-align: center;">Einen, der deine Träume kennt,<br />dir deine Schwächen vergibt,<br />einen, der dich beim Namen nennt<br />und froh ist, dass es dich gibt.</p> <p style="text-align: center;">Einen, dem du vertrauen kannst,<br />der dich wortlos versteht,<br />einen, mit dem du Gespenster bannst,<br />ehe dein Mut vergeht.</p> <p style="text-align: center;">Einen, der dich in die Arme nimmt,<br />wenn eine Hoffnung zerbricht,<br />einen, der deine Saiten stimmt.<br />Einen brauchst du als Licht.</p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Emmy Grund</b> <br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p> </div><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs xlh3980 xvmahel x1n0sxbx x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u" dir="auto">Joaquín Sorolla</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs xlh3980 xvmahel x1n0sxbx x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u" dir="auto">Paseo a orillas del mar (Passeggiata in riva al mare)</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs xlh3980 xvmahel x1n0sxbx x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u" dir="auto">1909, Madrid, museo Sorolla</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs xlh3980 xvmahel x1n0sxbx x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u" dir="auto"> </span></span> <br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0