Years ago someone wrote this that then follows, and says musta spent. Today I share with you. I feel the need to take some force to continue the fight. The struggle today is hard, you want to tell, and somewhat complicated, so we're going to cheat.
Those who know me know that sharing dreams is complex and difficult task. And today, more than ever, because no one sleeps. And that is why, ladies and gentlemen, I must act in other forums not so nice and warm-to me-like this.
So no more should have started this blog, and, this being their first entry, but the circumstances, the destination, if it exists, or who knows, have wanted to be another initial course.
Today, in advance, I write this. We will see that it can continue in the future.
God keep you.
THE ANGEL
You who know the law
much or more than justice.
The
that comes from God and not of men.
You who have fought the good fight,
not reward or salvation, but
, and only, out of gratitude.
You, you loved that woman so
and yet you got no
, not cowardice,
but, for the loved.
You, you were living, today
scattering and dust.
You, you lived, not the hard yesterday, but the incessant
present
giddy last point and apex of the time,
arrow eternal, always halfway.
You, in your monastery,
were called by the ancient voice of ethics,
met Virgil, Beatrice and St. Bernard,
and sang the victory of Rafael,
though not attributed to him, but
the sword of thy God, your King.
You, who with fierce joy, sang
humiliation of the enemy reptile
and eternal defeat.
You who congregate in military time,
the ritual metaphor of the race,
at a time without history.
Dress, the now, yesterday,
in sweat and blood of this war
an ancient crystal auroras.
you both loved your country,
and not name it,
but through your actions today
are not otherwise than words that some scoring. Today there are
else,
my voice when he repeats your words
Iron:
leapfrogging to God, or the sum
time that my days deserve oblivion
my name is nobody,
like Ulysses.
But a verse in the night lasts
conducive to the memory of men
and also, when my name
deserve oblivion, can I return
secretly
without anyone knowing, a
outside line, in one night
conducive to the memory of men. "
no longer care about my name or who I am or where I come from, and I want. Today I am a shadow for the world. But that line of yet another mine has endured.
And today, I just want,
that verse, eternal,
endure over time,
until the end.
So that, the Ensign,
to return found;
the whole field is strewn
and in the meantime, another
pick up my banner,
and do not drop;
because it is not mine alone.
You who know the law
much or more than justice.
The
that comes from God and not of men.
You who have fought the good fight,
not reward or salvation, but
, and only, out of gratitude.
You, you loved that woman so
and yet you got no
, not cowardice,
but, for the loved.
You, you were living, today
scattering and dust.
You, you lived, not the hard yesterday, but the incessant
present
giddy last point and apex of the time,
arrow eternal, always halfway.
You, in your monastery,
were called by the ancient voice of ethics,
met Virgil, Beatrice and St. Bernard,
and sang the victory of Rafael,
though not attributed to him, but
the sword of thy God, your King.
You, who with fierce joy, sang
humiliation of the enemy reptile
and eternal defeat.
You who congregate in military time,
the ritual metaphor of the race,
at a time without history.
Dress, the now, yesterday,
in sweat and blood of this war
an ancient crystal auroras.
you both loved your country,
and not name it,
but through your actions today
are not otherwise than words that some scoring. Today there are
else,
my voice when he repeats your words
Iron:
leapfrogging to God, or the sum
time that my days deserve oblivion
my name is nobody,
like Ulysses.
But a verse in the night lasts
conducive to the memory of men
and also, when my name
deserve oblivion, can I return
secretly
without anyone knowing, a
outside line, in one night
conducive to the memory of men. "
no longer care about my name or who I am or where I come from, and I want. Today I am a shadow for the world. But that line of yet another mine has endured.
And today, I just want,
that verse, eternal,
endure over time,
until the end.
So that, the Ensign,
to return found;
the whole field is strewn
and in the meantime, another
pick up my banner,
and do not drop;
because it is not mine alone.
Hannibal L PuricelliP.
December 25, 1994
