martedì 29 gennaio 2013

Beyond the clouds

Visitaly - Step 5

place : Grigna Meridionale
photo by: Fortu click and Camòrs
poems by: Camòrs


Beyond the clouds

Sometimes everything appears lost,
all is frozen
not only around you,
deeply inside,
but remember: don’t stop your step to heaven.
Look up there,
believe to your instinct
then strongly and bravely 
follow that faith path,
towards the light,
towards the sun.
You’ll arrive in the ethereal dimension
where just an instant has the life flavour,
where the human feels different,
where each breath becomes a prayer.
Dream with your heart,
lets your soul begins the climbing.

--- o ---

Oltre le nubi

Alle volte gni cosa appare perduta,
tutto è congelato
non solamente nei tuoi pressi,
profondamente dentro,
ma ricorda: non arrestare il tuo passo verso il cielo.
Guarda lassù,
credi nel tuo istinto
quindi con forza e coraggio
segui quel sentiero di fede,
verso la luce,
verso il sole.
Arriverai in una dimensione eterea,
dove un solo istante ha il sapore della vita,
dove l’umano si percepisce differente,
dove ogni respiro si tramuta in preghiera.
Sogna con il tuo cuore,
lascia che la tua anima inizi la scalata. 

giovedì 24 gennaio 2013

L'OMBRA DEI RE

L'ultimo libro di Camòrs:
Thriller massonico


Questa è la storia di Charles, Charles Ghibellino:un recluso.
Questo è il mio diario, la mia storia. Un racconto che forse non sarà mai letto da nessuno, ma che ora, in primis, serve a me, per fuggire dalla follia e dalla disperazione che mi rendono prigioniero in questo carcere d'oro.


Gli ingredienti di questa visionaria quanto realistica narrazione di verità massonica sono:    

Tormento:Quel suono regolare fu come ipnotico, mi condusse in un limbo, saturo di piacevoli ricordi di focolare domestico, tanto dolci quanto velenosi per la mia mente, in bilico sul baratro della follia”

Atmosfera: “Mi alzai e sgranchendomi le gambe tornai a pranzare in camera, un pallido sole illuminava i tratti dei rami che bucavano velature di nebbia.”

Provocazione:La verità non deve esistere per forza, ma è sufficiente convincere la maggior parte delle persone che le cose siano così, la rimanenza seguirà la massa per conformismo.”

Morte:Le mie urla fecero volare via i tre corvi, che appesi a quelle sagome, si stavano cibando dei loro occhi.”

…e molto altro ancora.


Ed. Arpeggio Libero,2012


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Shadow of Kings
 -- masonic thriller---


The ingredients of this realistic and visionary masonic story about our real life are:

Torment:That steady sound was hypnotic, led me in a limbo, overfilled with pleasant home memories, sweetest as much as poisonous for my mind, teetering on the brink of madness"

Atmosphere: I stood up to stretch my legs I went in-room for dining, a pale sun illuminated the profile of branches which were drilling veils of fog

Provocation:  The truth should not being necessarily, but it's enough convince most people that things are so, the remaining will follow the crowd for conformism

Death:My shouts did fly off the three ravens, they hunged to those silhouettes, were eating their eyes

...and much more.

Arpeggio Libero publisher, 2012

martedì 22 gennaio 2013

In the hall of the Mountain King


place: Magehorn 2620mt. (CH)
photo by: Fortu click
poem by Camòrs


Welcome to the entrance
of the frozen thought,
against the remembrance 
by the wind brought.
This place doesn’t know
any sort of true reason
even brain appears raw
cherish sad latest season.
Truly all things here
have meaning twice
also rocks appear
look like the ice.
And the soul then
becomes pretty wild
forgetting when
was a carefree child.
There’s not illusion
light as eagle’s wing,
maybe bit confusion:
hall of Mountain King.

--- o ---

Benvenuti all’entrata
del pensiero congelato,
che si scontra al ricordo
portato dal vento.
Questo posto non conosce
nessun genere di vera ragione
ed anche il cervello appare più puro
ammirando triste l’ultima sua stagione.
In realtà tutte le cose qui
hanno una doppia natura,
poiché anche le rocce sembrano 
assomigliare al ghiaccio.
E l’anima quindi
diviene piuttosto selvaggia
dimenticando quando
era di spensierato bambino.
Non c’è illusione
leggera come l’ala dell’aquila
o forse è solo un po’ di confusione:
     l’ingresso del Re della Montagna.    

lunedì 21 gennaio 2013

The magnificence of a flower

Thoughts arrive in the meadow of my mind,
transported by impetuous world winds.
As highland spontaneous flowers:
varied, wild, beautiful;
will bloom suddenly.
The purpose of the magnificence of a flower,
subtle and illusive
by the human reason doesn't discoverable.
As well as the purpose of life,
cannot find consolation
in an inescapable destiny.
Choose a path, follow your heart.

sabato 19 gennaio 2013

La Montagna nel cuore

La magnificenza di un fiore
L'attore di teatro Stefano Barcella della Casa del Teatro interpreta la poesia "La magnificenza di un fiore" tratto dal libro di Stefano Camòrs Guarda "La Montagna nel cuore" edizioni Arpeggio Libero, 2012.




The magnificence of a flower
Theatre actor Stefano Barcella from Casa del Teatro interprets the poem "the magnificence of a flower" taken from the Stefano Camòrs Guarda book  "Mountain in the heart"  ed. Arpeggio Libero, 2012

venerdì 11 gennaio 2013

Mountain in the heart

                     
A book about the mountains,
which scents of philosophy,
has the flavor of life


--- 0 ---

Author's Note

Mountain in the heart is a book of poetry that speaks of the mountain. I always wanted to write poems about the mountain, since I was teen and started discovering that places. From my first step, several years ago, I felt a kind of feeling or perhaps it would be better to call it a predisposition towards the mountain. What, at that time, I couldn't understand was what was related with that predisposition. I always felt like a push, a push for the attending of those places, with the result that each return home, that feeling didn't dozing off for the recently completed attending, but each time I felt an increasing a desire to return over there. Those places, those spaces, inspired me. Slowly I began to realize that while I found a physical benefit, on the other hand was even stimulated my thinking, my mind. So I began to write. First stories, but the impression was immediately that of a mere report mountaineering and this did not assuage and flanked my feelings. So I came to poetry and the words began to flow like spring water. The more I went to the mountains, the stream acquired more strength, impetuosity. Suddenly, ten years ago, the death has approached me and tried to get me, in vain, but in the end he let me go. I do not know why, but I like to think it has seen something in me and has preferred to let me go again to the mountains. For feeling them again and tell about. One day, quite recently, I found the hundreds of poems that I had picked up and a slight glow began to enlighten my mind and my heart. All that I had written over time could have been ordered in a certain way, and finally the collection took shape and seemed an ascension path. I began to wonder if it had happened only to me to try similar feelings and started with little research, which soon led to the vastness of history, literature and philosophy. I realized that by several thousand years the most diverse civilizations were culturally, religiously and mystically attracted to the mountains. Characters superficially studied in high school, have proven to be aligned to myself, similar in my own mind, almost accomplices during a metaphorical mountain climb, like climbing's companions. Here was the physical size of the mountain which was dressing of the eerie tones of the Mountain mystique, the discovery about own intellectual limit, the proximity to her which I already had granted me freedom: the death. In a conceptual metaphysical framework, arrived in a rather impetuous way, are hearing the words of philosophers whom for thousands of years had theorized purifier ideals about the mountains. Every step taken has become both physical and mental experience. The mountain revealing path of becoming, culminating in a new awareness. Humility of intellect and spirit, awareness than knowledge of not knowing. The mountain attending has become for me experience of philosophy, or rather a philosophical way. Impossible to summarize this idea better than how Nietschze did: philosophy, is the free choice of living between the ice and the high peaks. High peaks, to overcome laziness and suggest the abandonment. The discovery unthinkable for a meeting place, a common apex between philosophies,  eastern and western cultures. The physical difficulty for implementing a mental asceticism, that alone would not bring anything, if accompained of an useless, cumbersome and material luggage. Here is the suggestion of reasoned abandonment then, from everything is common ground intellectual luggage, which obscures the horizon of new, impediment towards that same light that the platonic slave, born in the cave, must follow to attain true freedom. Example exciting for me was Petrarch, who at the very top of the Ventoux, caught the light of the Augustine's words and began from that moment a very different type of climbing. The human being is conditioned by time and matter, as indicated by Heidegger in  being and time, and it is only when mind abandons this kind of dogma of existence, then thought, can begin a real ascetic ascent. Accompanying like a mountain guide, the spirit towards the abyss of his own limitations, handing to man the only existing instrument which would be able to allow the physical subjectivity of all things, a real objectivity, the death. A metaphorical death of thought, the zeroing, the nothingness. Anything to do with the twilight of a certain poetic currents, but a reasoned waiver, the first step of a new renaissance. To reach the summit, really empty inside, bare of everything and therefore capable of grasping everything comes from the elevation. An absorbing not by the final dissolution, but by a valley return, with a new mood, especially aware to exist in a changing existence and without end: physical, mental and spiritual.
Difficult, challenging, perhaps unlikely, but feasible, scalable.
I now begin to realize what it was that feeling of predisposition: an intrisic desire to the soul to seek the most complete natural absorption, own dissolution and recomposition, in other words, a full and perhaps heavenly harmony. Only at the end of such an arduous journey, the instinctive man can approach the mountain more difficult that each can imagine, and get himself out, not conqueror or winner, but robbed of humanity and finally free. Free to be a person. A new person.
Find widest sense, in conclusion, the words of Guido Rey, a member along with Ugo De Amicis of that mountaineering period, congenial to me, named mystical mountaineering,  phrase with which I exactly open the preface of the book. Proper citation, who exhorts us to take the first step, because in the end it is not necessary reach the top at any cost, the waiver could be part of the journey and the ultimate aim could be the not achievement of the summit: "The mountain is made for everybody, not only for climbers: for those who want to rest in the quiet as for those looking in the effort a rest even louder”.
Hence the hope of getting carried away by the mystical effort towards the highest and breahty peaks , knowing that only when the ideal of walk and not of summit will enter in us, then we'll start a real catharsis.

mercoledì 9 gennaio 2013

Wooden soul


Wooden Soul

...and I found myself lost
at the crossroads between the present and remembrance.
Walking in the cool of the branches
among fans of green shades,
accurately listening to the suffused sounds:
the pecking of the Woodpecker on dying bark,
the plaintive leaves creaking
and the wind which kindly caresses to the fir branches.
I realized one place heedless of geography
where the milk flavor
didn't change when language was modified,
where colour of flowers doesn't care about
from where the own seeds were come.
In the distance the sound of saw-teeth
presaged the din of a wooden crash.
Where the exertion was the same,
whichever was its own language translation.
...but, what most me fascinated
was that mysterious silence,
imperceptible sound absence,
the trembling growth of trees.
Mountain country was delighting my soul,
stateless of modern,
mistress of dream's time.
Even only the dance of shadows, below the foliage,
instigated the sprouting of hope.
----- o -----

...e mi ritrovai perso
al bivio tra l'odierno ed il ricordo.
Passeggiando nel fresco dei rami
tra ventagli di verdi tonalità,
ascoltando attento suoni soffusi:
il rintocco del picchio su morente corteccia,
il frigolare di foglie lamentose
e le cortesi carezze del vento ai rami d'abete. 
M'accorsi d'un luogo incurante di geografie,
dove il sapore del latte
non mutava al cambio di lingua,
dove il colore dei fiori
se ne infischiava della provenienza dei  propri semi.
In lontananza il rumore di denti di sega
presagiva il frastuono d'un ligneo schianto.
Dove la fatica era la stessa,
qualunque fosse la sua traduzione.
...ma, ciò che m'affascinò maggiormente
fu quel silenzio arcano,
impercettibile assenza di suono,
quella vibrante crescita d'alberi.
E' l'alpe m'allietava l'animo,
apolide del moderno,
padrona del tempo dei sogni.
Anche il solo danzare d'ombre tra le fronde
istigava il germogliare di speranza. 


sabato 5 gennaio 2013

La Montagna nel cuore - Poesia "Forte di Orino"



Tratta dal libro "La Montagna nel cuore" di Stefano Camòrs Guarda, l'attore Stefano Barcella della Casa del Teatro recita la poesia "Forte di Orino".

Un caloroso ringraziamento a tutti i partecipanti.

Bellinzona, 3 Gennaio 2013

INCONTRO DI POESIA
giovedì, 3 gennaio 2013 ore 19.30
Bar Porta Ticinese
Via Codeborgo 12
6500 Bellinzona
I tre autori Moka, Camòrs e
Antonietta De Luca presentano i
loro libri di poesia:
“Verrà la Notte, avrà la Tua luce” e
“Amanti di carta”; “La montagna
nel cuore” e “Di sangue e
pensiero”.
Letture di Antoinette Werner,
Renata Sottini e Stefano Barcella
della Casa del Teatro.