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 Apr 29
AR the UNgreat
Tu, burattino speranzoso,
inutili sono le tue lacrime,
prive di senso,
travolte dal suono del cucù, ora.
Oh pupo,
ti deprimo,
ma leggo in te le stelle
e le ambizioni
che non raggiungerai.

Tu, carcassa macchinaria,
affogate sono le tue grida,
laggiù negli abissi,
natie d’un assassino seppellito.
Oh superbo,
ti disgusto,
ma vedo in te la cenere
e l'onore
che cela la sua paura.

Tu, spirito magistrale,
fittizie sono le tue glorie,
immense e spettacolari,
dal desiderio d’infestare i sogni altrui.
Oh dannato,
ti inorridisco,
ma percepisco in te il teatro
e il potere
di un applauso solo cortese.

Io, universale, infinito,
superiori sono le mie trame,
io che tramuto in lazzi
lo spasmo ed il pianto.
Oh folle,
m’illumino,
mentre distrutto mi guardo allo specchio urlando:

ridi, mostro, ridi!

Ridi, bestia, soffoca nel sorriso!

Ridi!

Ridi!

Ridi!

///

You, hopeful puppet,
useless are your tears,
without sense,
swept away by the sound of the cuckoo, now.
Oh puppet,
I depress you,
but I read in you the stars
and the ambitions
that you will not reach.

You, mechanical carcass,
drowned are your cries,
down there in the abyss,
native of a buried murderer.
Oh proud,
I disgust you,
but I see in you the ashes
and the honor
that hides his fear.

You, masterful spirit,
fictitious are your glories,
immense and spectacular,
from the desire to haunt the dreams of others.
Oh ******,
I horrify you,
but I perceive in you the theater
and the power
of only polite applause.

I, universal, infinite,
my plots are superior,
I who turn into jokes
spasm and weeping.
Oh madman,
I light up,
while destroyed I look at myself in the mirror screaming:

laugh, monster, laugh!

Laugh, beast, suffocate in the smile!

Laugh!

Laugh!

Laugh!
I'm one and 3, the Trinity of the Nothing
 Apr 29
AR the UNgreat
Vista la Cappa porpora bruciata
dalla fiaccola del Mare uguale
e stufo della Corona che porto,
e con essa la prigionia, mi dissi:

or ora ** deciso:
lascerò alle fiere le mie stanche carni
ed alla tempesta i Lumi,
conservando avidamente
solo l'impura fiamma che strazia urlò:
"è l'ignoranza che porta al trono",


o almeno così avrei fatto se la mente
fosse timone dell'anima e il cuore
ridotto da un re assoluto ed invisibile
ad un ratto senza denti e ossa.

///

Having seen the purple Cape burned
by the torch of the equal Sea
and tired of the Crown that I wear,
and with it the captivity, I said to myself:

now I have decided:
I will leave my tired flesh to the beasts
and the Lights to the storm,
greedily preserving
only the impure flame that tears he shouted:
"it is ignorance that leads to the throne",

or at least I would have done so if the mind
were the rudder of the soul and the heart
reduced by an absolute and invisible king
to a rat without teeth and bones.
I'm not a King, I'm a leader
 Apr 29
AR the UNgreat
Lui si atteggia da grande,
sembra che pensi, sempre,
si vede dalle sue espressioni
le idee che gli passano per la testa.

Il suo sguardo si muove veloce,
da destra, a sinistra, a destra ancora,
molto brutti e cattivi i suoi occhi,
solo un poco ingenui, liberi.

Forse ha paura, si vede,
ha le spalle alzate,
un po’ piegato in avanti,
con la testa bassa. Triste. Ma contento.

Ma all’improvviso si trasforma:
si muove come un prestigiatore,
le sopracciglia saltano come grilli,
e tante risate tra il barbone e il prete.

///

He acts like a grown-up,
he seems to be thinking, always,
you can see from his expressions
the ideas that pass through his head.

His gaze moves quickly,
from right, to left, to right again,
very ugly and evil his eyes,
just a little naive, free.

Maybe he is afraid, you can see it,
his shoulders are raised,
a little bent forward,
with his head down. Sad. But happy.

But suddenly he transforms:
he moves like a magician,
his eyebrows jump like crickets,
and lots of laughter between the ***** and the priest.
What beautiful creatures lives in this world
 Apr 26
AR the UNgreat
Lyin’ on the bed,
dreamin’ of nightmares I’ve never met.
A glittering show of blood,
a scene that surely won’t be done.

Tick-Tackin’ is the clock,
I just don’t care about those eerie sounds beyond the lock,
whispers full of black,
like someone is trying to enchant a cat.

Earin’ knock-knocks on the door,
Death itself is down the hall,
it’s close enough to make me scared,
but far enough I barely care.

Sparkin’ is the future,
even if I already see some ugly failures.
I’m afraid, but I don’t hide,
so why should I even think that despair that’s no longer mine?
When you're too deaf to ear his steps

— The End —