Ettore Cappelletti can be defined a transparent poet for that its clearness in the person and writing that it evidences the great sensibility for all this encircles that it: the men, the nature, the love for its companion of life. It clears from complicated and twisted expressions, written its know to communicate to who listen to them the thought that has inspired the author.
Great fan and conoscitore of meridian, have held various illustrative conferences explaining of their characteristics. It is perhaps the passion under consideration and to the deepening of this clock that, without noise and with the contribution of the Sun measure the time, to forge our man-poet who simply but to deeply speaks us with its rhymes. Or it is the inverse one and that is Ettore has been born with a poetico DNA and therefore it has found in meridian that symbol that helps to serenely face the time that pass and the same life.
He has approached himself the Acàrya in tip of feet over recent years and, from careful listener has enriched its poetica experience singing the nature and the love in all their sfaccettature, but without to omit to always condemn the meschinità and the violence maintaining but in its rhymes that compostezza and transparency that the contraddistinguono. Here here of continuation a part of its poetica production:
The ARC
Piece of real estate is the arc
pushed in ahead
from the vigorous hand
that it appeals solid it.
The opposite artigliose fingers
they withdraw with force,
until the sturdy rope
it remains stiff to the spasimo.
For the crescent effort,
the flexible wood
s'inarca,
loading itself with power,
and fremente
appuntito dart
it is ready to the imminent release.
It is this eraclitea contesa
vitality symbol
Then,
the human will
free the fast arrow,
that saettando silent
it flies towards the target;
not always
for joyful competition,
but sometimes
for died them cruelty.
Aspect the evening
When it is evening, I place on the bed
a wicker hamper
wrapped in a candid cloth,
it is the crib for the dreams.
In the night
my limbs rest,
the active mind
in fantastic dreams,
full of iridate illusions
and pleasant irrealtà.
On the credit side dawn,
the buio escaping
it leaves the sky free
to dye itself of blue;
a tenuous chiarore
it is diffused in the houses.
The light me risveglia,
the look runs quickly to the hamper
trying the dreams,
I would want to always have them with me;
disappointed rest,
they are vanished in the nothing.
During the day,
between people that do not sorride
I face the truth,
aspect the evening
in order to return to dream
without it tows
The smiles fly
of the joyful children
between the benches dell ’ asylum,
the clouds fly
transported from the wind
towards the blue sky,
the thoughts fly
of the old hermit
ammantato of sadness,
the earth flies
in the diuturno covered
towards the infinite space,
the melodiose notes fly
of the musical comedy orchestra
in the rinomato theatre,
our days fly
in the express to carry out itself
of the phrenetic one to live,
the years fly
of our life
towards l ’ unknown destiny,
but,
they do not fly via
from you woman,
the indelebili signs
of your youth.
WITHOUT RETURN
A spot rose, evanescente
like ’ odalisca a temptress
it whispers to me with suadente voice:
“ you take to me, I I will make you happy. ”
The strong desire fascinate to me
in fight with the residual one intelletto
that to go via it convinces to me,
I say myself, “ enough alcool promise, it. ”
I have thus decided d ’ to remove to me
in spite of l ’ uncertain condition,
but I renounce trying d ’ to raise to me
attracted from the sublime vision.
Resigned, but with much fury
I seize with the eager hands
and taste l ’ inebriante sapore
immergendovi the lips barren.
The drink wish grows in me,
with to great I confess it sincerity,
I have between the fingers an empty glass,
I see in the bottom a reflected ace.
And ’ the face d ’ a being ignavo
That to resist it is not convinced;
“ cursed wine, you have won to me,
I know that I will be your perennial slave ”.
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