Newsgroup: it.discussioni.litigi
Titolo: Arte, dico io.

http://snipurl.com/oilala
http://snipurl.com/artepura
http://snipurl.com/hitoizo
E poi vienimi a parlare delle troie dell'est, ci sputo sopra le
russemoldaverumeneucraineceche di merda.
-- 
niuno. Tessera nr.01 "Snobbiamo il bove"
["s.gue non lo leggo più, mi prende troppo ai coglioni." uncombed su idl]

 
http://snipurl.com/hitoizo
Temevo di trovar pic di gente che sborra sopra tumori appena estratti.

:
Vaffanculo.

PdG wrote:
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Oggi mi sento poco raffinato, devo ammetterlo.
http://snipurl.com/spettacolo
http://snipurl.com/3fqg
http://snipurl.com/3fqh
http://snipurl.com/3fqj
http://snipurl.com/3fqk
Cerco di rifarmi.
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http://snipurl.com/3fqk
    Qui ho tossito anche io per empatia.
-- 
You're tired of your teachers and your school's a drag, you're not going to end up like your
mum and dad
http://tinyurl.com/mzpg
 & 
http://tinyurl.com/mzup

     Qui ho tossito anche io per empatia.
Aspeto che chiedo a lei:
http://snipurl.com/3fqp
http://snipurl.com/3fqo


 Vaffanculo.
ror follows. For can it be a ship that comes onward without wind or tide ?
    See ! see ! (I cried) she tacks no more !
    Hither to work us weal ;
    Without a breeze, without a tide,
    She steadies with upright keel !
    The western wave was all a-flame.
    The day was well nigh done !
    Almost upon the western wave
    Rested the broad bright Sun ;
    When that strange shape drove suddenly
    Betwixt us and the Sun.
It seemeth him but the skeleton of a ship.
    And straight the Sun was flecked with bars,
    (Heaven's Mother send us grace !)
    As if through a dungeon-grate he peered
    With broad and burning face.
And its ribs are seen as bars on the face of the setting Sun.
    Alas ! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)
    How fast she nears and nears !
    Are those her sails that glance in the Sun,
    Like restless gossameres ?
The Spectre-Woman and her Death-mate, and no other on board the skeleton
ship.
    And those her ribs through which the Sun
    Did peer, as through a grate ?
    And is that Woman all her crew ?
    Is that a DEATH ? and are there two ?
    Is DEATH that woman's mate ?
[first version of this stanza through the end of Part III]
Like vessel, like crew !
    Her lips were red, her looks were free,
    Her locks were yellow as gold :
    Her skin was as white as leprosy,
    The Night-mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she,
    Who thicks man's blood with cold.
Death and Life-in-Death have diced for the ship's crew, and she (the latter)
winneth the ancient Mariner.
    The naked hulk alongside came,
    And the twain were casting dice ;
    `The game is done ! I've won ! I've won !'
    Quoth she, and whistles thrice.
No twilight within the courts of the Sun.
    The Sun's rim dips ; the stars rush out :
    At one stride comes the dark ;
    With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea,
    Off shot the spectre-bark.
At the rising of the Moon,
    We listened and looked sideways up !
    Fear at my heart, as at a cup,
    My life-blood seemed to sip !
    The stars were dim, and thick the night,
    The steerman's face by his lamp gleamed white ;
    From the sails the dew did drip--
    Till clomb above the eastern bar
    The hornéd Moon, with one bright star
    Within the nether tip.
One after another,
    One after one, by the star-dogged Moon,
    Too quick for groan or sigh,
    Each turned his face with a ghastly pang,
    And cursed me with his eye.
His shipmates drop down dead.
    Four times fifty living men,
    (And I heard nor sigh nor groan)
    With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,
    They dropped down one by one.
But Life-in-Death begins her work on the ancient Mariner.
    The souls did from their bodies fly,--
    They fled to bliss or woe !
    And every soul, it passed me by,
    Like the whizz of my cross-bow !
PART IV
The Wedding-Guest feareth that a Spirit is talking to him ;
    `I fear thee, ancient Mariner !
    I fear thy skinny hand !
    And thou art long, and lank, and brown,
    As is the ribbed sea-sand.
(Coleridge's note on above stanza)
    I fear thee and thy glittering eye,
    And thy skinny hand, so brown.'--
    Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest !
    This body dropt not down.
But the ancient Mariner assureth him of his bodily life, and proceedeth to
relate his horrible penance.
    Alone, alone, all, all alone,
    Alone on a wide wide sea !
    And never a saint took pity on
    My soul in agony.
He despiseth the creatures of the calm,
    The many men, so beautiful !
    And they all dead did lie :
    And a thousand thousand slimy things
    Lived on ; and so did I.
And envieth that they should live, and so many lie dead.
    I looked upon the rotting sea,
    And drew my eyes away ;
    I looked upon the rotting deck,
    And there the dead men lay.
    I looked to heaven, and tried to pray ;
    But or ever a prayer had gusht,
    A wicked whisper came, and made
    My heart as dry as dust.
    I closed my lids, and kept them close,
    And the balls like pulses beat ;
    For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky
    Lay like a load on my weary eye,
    And the dead were at my feet.
But the curse liveth for him in the eye of the dead men.
    The cold sweat melted from their limbs,
    Nor rot nor reek did they :
    The look with which they looked on me
    Had never passed away.
    An orphan's curse would drag to hell
    A spirit from on high ;
    But oh ! more horrible than that
    Is the curse in a dead man's eye !
    Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse,
    And yet I could not die.
In his loneliness and fixedness he yearneth towards the journeying Moon, and
the stars that still sojourn, yet still move onward ; and every where the
blue sky belongs to them, and is their appointed rest, and their native
country and their own natural homes, which they enter unannounced, as lords
that are certainly expected and yet there is a silent joy at their arrival.
    The moving Moon went up the sky,
    And no where did abide :
    Softly she was going up,
    And a star or two beside--
    Her beams bemocked the sultry main,
    Like April hoar-frost spread ;
    But where the ship's huge shadow lay,
    The charméd water burnt alway
    A still and awful red.
By the light of the Moon he beholdeth God's creatures of the great calm.
    Beyond the shadow of the ship,
    I watched the water-snakes :
    They moved in tracks of shining white,
    And when they reared, the elfish light
    Fell off in hoary flakes.
    Within the shadow of the ship
    I watched their rich attire :
    Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,
    They coiled and swam ; and every track
    Was a flash of golden fire.
Their beauty and their happiness.
He blesseth them in his heart.
    O happy living things ! no tongue
    Their beauty might declare :
    A spring of love gushed from my heart,
    And I blessed them unaware :
    Sure my kind saint took pity on me,
    And I blessed them unaware.
The spell begins to break.
    The self-same moment I could pray ;
    And from my neck so free
    The Albatross fell off, and sank
    Like lead into the sea.
PART V
    Oh sleep ! it is a gentle thing,
    Beloved from pole to pole !
    To Mary Queen the praise be given !
    She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven,
    That slid into my soul.
By grace of the holy Mother, the ancient Mariner is refreshed with rain.
    The silly buckets on the deck,
    That had so long remained,
    I dreamt that they were filled with dew ;
    And when I awoke, it rained.
    My lips were wet, my throat was cold,
    My garments all were dank ;
    Sure I had drunken in my dreams,
    And still my body drank.
    I moved, and could not feel my limbs :
    I was so light--almost
    I thought that I had died in sleep,
    And was a blesséd ghost.
He heareth sounds and seeth strange sights and commotions in the sky and the
element.
    And soon I heard a roaring wind :
    It did not come anear ;
    But with its sound it shook the sails,
    That were so thin and sere.
    The upper air burst into life !
    And a hundred fire-flags sheen,
    To and fro they were hurried about !
    And to and fro, and in and out,
    The wan stars danced between.
    And the coming wind did roar more loud,
    And the sails did sigh like sedge ;
    And the rain poured down from one black cloud ;
    The Moon was at its edge.
    The thick black cloud was cleft, and still
    The Moon was at its side :
    Like waters shot from some high crag,
    The lightning fell with never a jag,
    A river steep and wide.
The bodies of the ship's crew are inspired, and the ship moves on ;
    The loud wind never reached the ship,
    Yet now the ship moved on !
    Beneath the lightning and the Moon
    The dead men gave a groan.
    They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose,
    Nor spake, nor moved their eyes ;
    It had been strange, even in a dream,
    To have seen those dead men rise.
    The helmsman steered, the ship moved on ;
    Yet never a breeze up-blew ;
    The mariners all 'gan work the ropes,
    Where they were wont to do ;
    They raised their limbs like lifeless tools--
    We were a ghastly crew.
    The body of my brother's son
    Stood by me, knee to knee :
    The body and I pulled at one rope,
    But he said nought to me.
But not by the souls of the men, nor by dæmons of earth or middle air, but
by a blessed troop of angelic spirits, sent down by the invocation of the
guardian saint.
    `I fear thee, ancient Mariner !'
    Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest !
    'Twas not those souls that fled in pain,
    Which to their corses came again,
    But a troop of spirits blest :
    For when it dawned--they dropped their arms,
    And clustered round the mast ;
    Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths,
    And from their bodies passed.
    Around, around, flew each sweet sound,
    Then darted to the Sun ;
    Slowly the sounds came back again,
    Now mixed, now one by one.
    Sometimes a-dropping from the sky
    I heard the sky-lark sing ;
    Sometimes all little birds that are,
    How they seemed to fill the sea and air
    With their sweet jargoning !
    And now 'twas like all instruments,
    Now like a lonely flute ;
    And now it is an angel's song,
    That makes the heavens be mute.
    It ceased ; yet still the sails made on
    A pleasant noise till noon,
    A noise like of a hidden brook
    In the leafy month of June,
    That to the sleeping woods all night
    Singeth a quiet tune.
[Additional stanzas, dropped after the first edition.]
    Till noon we quietly sailed on,
    Yet never a breeze did breathe :
    Slowly and smoothly went the ship,
    Moved onward from beneath.
The lonesome Spirit from the south-pole carries on the ship as far as the
Line, in obedience to the angelic troop, but still requireth vengeance.
    Under the keel nine fathom deep,
    From the land of mist and snow,
    The spirit slid : and it was he
    That made the ship to go.
    The sails at noon left off their tune,
    And the ship stood still also.
    The Sun, right up above the mast,
    Had fixed her to the ocean :
    But in a minute she 'gan stir,
    With a short uneasy motion--
    Backwards and forwards half her length
    With a short uneasy motion.
    Then like a pawing horse let go,
    She made a sudden bound :
    It flung the blood into my head,
    And I fell down in a swound.
The Polar Spirit's fellow-dæmons, the invisible inhabitants of the element,
take part in his wrong ; and two of them relate, one to the other, that
penance long and heavy for the ancient Mariner hath been accorded to the
Polar Spirit, who returneth southward.
    How long in that same fit I lay,
    I have not to declare ;
    But ere my living life returned,
    I heard and in my soul discerned
    Two voices in the air.
    `Is it he ?' quoth one, `Is this the man ?
    By him who died on cross,
    With his cruel bow he laid full low
    The harmless Albatross.
    The spirit who bideth by himself
    In the land of mist and snow,
    He loved the bird that loved the man
    Who shot him with his bow.'
    The other was a softer voice,
    As soft as honey-dew :
    Quoth he, `The man hath penance done,
    And penance more will do.'
PART VI
    FIRST VOICE
    `But tell me, tell me ! speak again,
    Thy soft response renewing--
    What makes that ship drive on so fast ?
    What is the ocean doing ?'
    SECOND VOICE
    `Still as a slave before his lord,
    The ocean hath no blast ;
    His great bright eye most silently
    Up to the Moon is cast--
    If he may know which way to go ;
    For she guides him smooth or grim.
    See, brother, see ! how graciously
    She looketh down on him.'
The Mariner hath been cast into a trance ; for the angelic power causeth the
vessel to drive northward faster than human life could endure.
    FIRST VOICE
    `But why drives on that ship so fast,
    Without or wave or wind ?'
    SECOND VOICE
    `The air is cut away before,
    And closes from behind.
    Fly, brother, fly ! more high, more high !
    Or we shall be belated :
    For slow and slow that ship will go,
    When the Mariner's trance is abated.'
The supernatural motion is retarded ; the Mariner awakes, and his penance
begins anew.
    I woke, and we were sailing on
    As in a gentle weather :
    'Twas night, calm night, the moon was high ;
    The dead men stood together.
    All stood together on the deck,
    For a charnel-dungeon fitter :
    All fixed on me their stony eyes,
    That in the Moon did glitter.
    The pang, the curse, with which they died,
    Had never passed away :
    I could not draw my eyes from theirs,
    Nor turn them up to pray.
The curse is finally expiated.
    And now this spell was snapt : once more
    I viewed the ocean green,
    And looked far forth, yet little saw
    Of what had else been seen--
    Like one, that on a lonesome road
    Doth walk in fear and dread,
    And having once turned round walks on,
    And turns no more his head ;
    Because he knows, a frightful fiend
    Doth close behind him tread.
    But soon there breathed a wind on me,
    Nor sound nor motion made :
    Its path was not upon the sea,
    In ripple or in shade.
    It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek
    Like a meadow-gale of spring--
    It mingled strangely with my fears,
    Yet it felt like a welcoming.
    Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship,
    Yet she sailed softly too :
    Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze--
    On me alone it blew.
And the ancient Mariner beholdeth his native country.
    Oh ! dream of joy ! is this indeed
    The light-house top I see ?
    Is this the hill ? is this the kirk ?
    Is this mine own countree ?
    We drifted o'er the harbour-bar,
    And I with sobs did pray--
    O let me be awake, my God !
    Or let me sleep alway.
    The harbour-bay was clear as glass,
    So smoothly it was strewn !
    And on the bay the moonlight lay,
    And the shadow of the Moon.
[Additional stanzas, dropped after the first edition.]
    The rock shone bright, the kirk no less,
    That stands above the rock :
    The moonlight steeped in silentness
    The steady weathercock.
The angelic spirits leave the dead bodies,
    And the bay was white with silent light,
    Till rising from the same,
    Full many shapes, that shadows were,
    In crimson colours came.
And appear in their own forms of light.
    A little distance from the prow
    Those crimson shadows were :
    I turned my eyes upon the deck--
    Oh, Christ ! what saw I there !
    Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat,
    And, by the holy rood !
    A man all light, a seraph-man,
    On every corse there stood.
    This seraph-band, each waved his hand :
    It was a heavenly sight !
    They stood as signals to the land,
    Each one a lovely light ;
    This seraph-band, each waved his hand,
    No voice did they impart--
    No voice ; but oh ! the silence sank
    Like music on my heart.
    But soon I heard the dash of oars,
    I heard the Pilot's cheer ;
    My head was turned perforce away
    And I saw a boat appear.
[Additional stanza, dropped after the first edition.]
    The Pilot and the Pilot's boy,
    I heard them coming fast :
    Dear Lord in Heaven ! it was a joy
    The dead men could not blast.
    I saw a third--I heard his voice :
    It is the Hermit good !
    He singeth loud his godly hymns
    That he makes in the wood.
    He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away
    The Albatross's blood.
PART VII
The Hermit of the Wood,
    This Hermit good lives in that wood
    Which slopes down to the sea.
    How loudly his sweet voice he rears !
    He loves to talk with marineres
    That come from a far countree.
    He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve--
    He hath a cushion plump :
    It is the moss that wholly hides
    The rotted old oak-stump.
    The skiff-boat neared : I heard them talk,
    `Why, this is strange, I trow !
    Where are those lights so many and fair,
    That signal made but now ?'
Approacheth the ship with wonder.
    `Strange, by my faith !' the Hermit said--
    `And they answered not our cheer !
    The planks looked warped ! and see those sails,
    How thin they are and sere !
    I never saw aught like to them,
    Unless perchance it were
    Brown skeletons of leaves that lag
    My forest-brook along ;
    When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow,
    And the owlet whoops to the wolf below,
    That eats the she-wolf's young.'
    `Dear Lord ! it hath a fiendish look--
    (The Pilot made reply)
    I am a-feared'--`Push on, push on !'
    Said the Hermit cheerily.
    The boat came closer to the ship,
    But I nor spake nor stirred ;
    The boat came close beneath the ship,
    And straight a sound was heard.
The ship suddenly sinketh.
    Under the water it rumbled on,
    Still louder and more dread :
    It reached the ship, it split the bay ;
    The ship went down like lead.
The ancient Mariner is saved in the Pilot's boat.
    Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound,
    Which sky and ocean smote,
    Like one that hath been seven days drowned
    My body lay afloat ;
    But swift as dreams, myself I found
    Within the Pilot's boat.
    Upon the whirl, where sank the ship,
    The boat spun round and round ;
    And all was still, save that the hill
    Was telling of the sound.
    I moved my lips--the Pilot shrieked
    And fell down in a fit ;
    The holy Hermit raised his eyes,
    And prayed where he did sit.
    I took the oars : the Pilot's boy,
    Who now doth crazy go,
    Laughed loud and long, and all the while
    His eyes went to and fro.
    `Ha ! ha !' quoth he, `full plain I see,
    The Devil knows how to row.'
    And now, all in my own countree,
    I stood on the firm land !
    The Hermit stepped forth from the boat,
    And scarcely he could stand.
The ancient Mariner earnestly entreateth the Hermit to shrieve him ; and the
penance of life falls on him.
    `O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man !'
    The Hermit crossed his brow.
    `Say quick,' quoth he, `I bid thee say--
    What manner of man art thou ?'
    Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched
    With a woful agony,
    Which forced me to begin my tale ;
    And then it left me free.
And ever and anon through out his future life an agony constraineth him to
travel from land to land ;
    Since then, at an uncertain hour,
    That agony returns :
    And till my ghastly tale is told,
    This heart within me burns.
    I pass, like night, from land to land ;
    I have strange power of speech ;
    That moment that his face I see,
    I know the man that must hear me :
    To him my tale I teach.
    What loud uproar bursts from that door !
    The wedding-guests are there :
    But in the garden-bower the bride
    And bride-maids singing are :
    And hark the little vesper bell,
    Which biddeth me to prayer !
    O Wedding-Guest ! this soul hath been
    Alone on a wide wide sea :
    So lonely 'twas, that God himself
    Scarce seeméd there to be.
    O sweeter than the marriage-feast,
    'Tis sweeter far to me,
    To walk together to the kirk
    With a goodly company !--
    To walk together to the kirk,
    And all together pray,
    While each to his great Father bends,
    Old men, and babes, and loving friends
    And youths and maidens gay !
And to teach, by his own example, love and reverence to all things that God
made and loveth.
    Farewell, farewell ! but this I tell
    To thee, thou Wedding-Guest !
    He prayeth well, who loveth well
    Both man and bird and beast.
    He prayeth best, who loveth best
    All things both great and small ;
    For the dear God who loveth us,
    He made and loveth all.
    The Mariner, whose eye is bright,
    Whose beard with age is hoar,
    Is gone : and now the Wedding-Guest
    Turned from the bridegroom's door.
    He went like one that hath been stunned,
    And is of sense forlorn :
    A sadder and a wiser man,
    He rose the morrow morn.
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Orribili... e due su tre culone... mamma che gusti...
IceCool

IceCool wrote:
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Plonk e va a cagare.
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