quince and pomegranate 
Wednesday, my husband and I went to "find" our garden, much in need of care after the season hot shower that made in mid-August then, has caused the grass to grow strong and elongated too new branches: no need to clean up and a lot of trimming here and there .
By now remain only the flowering plumbago, lantana and some branches of the bougainvillea: roses, not having received half pruning that usually do them after flowering in May , not have flourished. . Unfortunately, the hydrangeas are green, and are about to dry up: it's time to cut and make the first pruning. The crocuses
were beautiful, but after the rain last week has been overblown and they are all wasted. 
From pomegranates swing but still not all the fruits have right degree of ripeness: the red ones are the highest points, almost impossible to achieve ... 
Piccolorfanello presented himself to claim the jelly! we expect almost always around, even in the garden .... comes up to me meowing, maybe ask me why we did not come first .. and then begins its rites:
extends to the ground and rolls from side to side and then
snoring loudly, looking at me looking forward to its good plate full! 
do not know if it's weird or not, but the plumbago was more Now that flowers in summer, and a pretty sight. 
Meanwhile, Xavier is getting ready to repaint the tank: the work are its worst .... I can not do much ... I remove the grass cut and watered poto .., but he who does the hard work is always heavier than him who takes away the grass, trim and prune and water, and takes away bags of grass and cut branches, and in addition maintains the house ...
Meanwhile I, in my small way I have picked up the quinces, and tonight I have cleaned and cut to prepare the usual jam: tomorrow it will fill several pots, and I will be definitely satisfied. .
TIME IF MY HEART COULD SPEAK 
If my heart could speak, how many things would have to say, tell you of deep passions, sincere feelings,
because you know it,
he does not know what it means to lie,
not know why not seek wealth, he required only a languid caress.
What he lives for,
fights and fights, is something that goes far beyond illusion. What he tries real hard and incessant, is a true feeling, deep, vibrant,
that is willing to sacrifice everything, for that 'impetuous, irrepressible, desire for love. Looking for love and be loved, but how many times was misled, ridiculed, used, humiliated, much pain, anger has tried how many times it was broken, many times I have felt hurt, but I've never seen defeated.
In him there is no place for contempt, nor bear any grudge,
not desire revenge,
although sometimes what remains is only so much bitterness. All this has not changed,
has not dried up, has always remained the same, indeed every time his pulse became more intense,
and I continued to feel, to follow him, because it is from my little heart that comes every
my feeling, without it there is no emotion.
In everything we think, say or do that
, in my every single gesture,
there is always a reflection of my heart. Ah, if we let him go,
he would know everything turn, and all my dreams would become reality, a beautiful dream and the reality
from which no one could wake up.
Ah, if my heart could speak, melodious strings would know about your feelings to resound. If I could make you hear the sound of her voice that touches the skin,
that whispers sweet words, as only he can do that only he can use. That her sweet whisper, as the tender of a nightingale singing to the awakening of the day
would draw your heart asleep, and their heart would become one, subdued, deep, yet strong enough to make it look like everything is quiet around. so powerful as to silence all of a sudden, all the hatred, envy, arrogance of the world. so pervasive as to highlight any particular much that a smile, a look
to make you dream. Ah, if my heart could talk ... (Xavier Wheel
THE SONG OF THE BEGGAR OF LOVE. 
I saw you one evening long ago, I do not know where , and then anxiously waited
Night, brimming with stars and light blue perfume,
on me weakened her nakedness
beam and whooping love!
Voyager, Night
opened its constellations
like veins throbbing in purple and gold, and all
enlightening pleasure his blood dripped
pel immense sky
I was, drunk, waiting, under your lighted windows, which blazed
, sun, space
building, waiting for the miracle of your love and the ineffable supreme
charity of your eyes!
Because they are hungry beggar in the Ideal
that goes along the beaches
begging kisses and love, to nurture his dream! With
spiteful greed I wished the jewels of the sky
to decorate your nakedness and Queen
stretched out to you my looks crazy, bloody
fleshless arms as the shadows of the dying!
Everything seemed to me exaggerated breadth of the dream!
Bells Reflection of sky
mouths as monstrous
mouths, perhaps, of Destiny!
invisible bells and wild
seemed to open up for me, in silence, as
inverted abyss! A large wall
s'ergea front of me, as haughty and relentless
despair!
waited alone, and thousands of stars, crazy
of stars seemed to shoot out from your windows
,
like sparks from a furnace volume of gold!
The shadow appeared in the hollow of your sweet glazed
like a soul that stirs terror
by pupils in agony, and you for me
become a prey
delusional up there on the very top of the towers
lavish of my dream!
Love my teeth and shining eyes hooked
brandished a grand gesture with his red sword and brutally
went to your tragic beauty. Because they are insatiable
the beggar who walks
to the warmth of her breasts,
to the languor of the lips, the implacable
beggar
that goes along the beaches, love and kisses
stealing to feed their dream!
opens the dark night at the foot of the wall, and you appear
,
blossomed sweetly beside me, white and pure in the midst of darkness,
almost staggering to the advice of the night breeze! It was abolished
all around me, and my dream
broke the world
with one stroke of the wing!
Of course I thought in the beautiful gardens where
s'esilia my soul
chimeric fish Foggia
your supple flesh, the smell of their flowers snow
that the sound of the wind shape fingers!
I came to you, trembling and religious, as in a
uncertain as time progresses in a damp cave!
came to thee, so my stumbling at every step, holding his breath
not to cause grief in the past! It
hatched
your smile in the serene waters of your face,
how to calm down a flower opens like a fan
your smile
floating in the sky, and made his face pale
impetuous of the Stars, in the silence!
I speak volubly of strange things, the soul of a wet
flowing anxiety,
and I seemed to feel enveloped by the current of a river
voluptuous.
eagerly spiavi
you on my lips, my soul, like a golden honey!
I felt my face s'infocava
like a house on fire, the enemy loots.
speaks to you, and my thoughts are altered
riflettevan and filmy
away in the quiet water in your face! -
Thou didst answer, but you did not know what to say.
ask me my anxieties, my fears, because
saw me tremble on the threshold tremble like a guilty
And I was like tramps injured
gasping
going door to door, seeking refuge among his fists
elevation of the relentless crowds!
I spoke of indifferent things! Wondered
of my past life, my home-away
you would like to know my name and all that it wont ask
to weary travelers, drinking fountains,
the evening, when everything becomes black
Since I am the beggar Ideal for hungry
which comes no one knows whence, and goes along
beaches
begging love and kisses, to feed their dream!
followed you all the way to your house;
we were alone, away from the crowds human
on the threshold of the Infinite, and I felt the sweetness of twilight
sea
when repairing a gulf of silence violet
wet!
We were alone, and my dream
his dream song:
Oh! lower eyelids languidly
sull'errante madness in your eyes.
Lower your eyelids and mystical lens
like angel wings that are closed
Lower your eyelids rosy, because the agile
flame of your eyes as you slide
sigh of moon from behind closed shutters.
Down alzale your eyelids and then again, I can
and finally lost in your eyes,
in your eyes, forever, as
asleep on lakes in the evening calm
between foliage and blacks!
"Be gentle, because my heart trembles
between your fingers, Be sweet!
Shadow is careful to spy on our ecstasy, and Silence
stoops to us like a mother tenderly caresses
Be sweet! For the first time
I love my soul because I love you so madly
admiration, as a poor fool!
I love my lips because my lips you wish
My soul is yours, my soul is so far
to seem foreign and blue!
humbles himself in front of you, my soul, what
sheep dying es'addormenta,
abbrividendo fragile under your feet like a lawn
s'inargenta
everything under the stealth of the moon
"Come!" - My crazy lips attract
your face and your big eyes pensive mourners
to the dazzling beaches of the archipelago's Dream
to divine clouds!
My lips will be as tireless
hinnies slowly draw,
the rosy freshness of mornings,
the big boats with sails toward the solemn
Sea pearl shimmer away.
and I will not be more than your breath And my blood in its course
overwhelm the scent of your lips,
like a river in spring, intoxicated with flowers!
Then your rosy mouth opened,
fragile shell rumbling, grumbling sinuously
to the delirium of feverish hand space and the seas!
the rhythm of your voice, my heart slowly
prepared to sail to ports
exalted of the sun and into dazzling gold islands
naively
You told me that nobody had so sung
the doors of your heart that
no one had ever cried
his dream and his pain
perfuming the sine of tears!
Because they are crying and the beggar complains, the hungry beggar
Ideal
of which comes no one knows whence, and goes along the beaches
love and kisses
begging to feed their dream! Your gestures and
assopenti
had the velvety caressing languor
their oars on the water brown in the evening hours
The liquid and moaning abbrividendo ripples.
Our voices fell
Lust But, alas, we spied poking
insidious shadow
Lust panting crawled along the walls!
the open window, as long as the night wind
turned over on us, wrapping the
obscene
his back in the purple curtains
We saw the golden lamp
faint like a little girl sick of fluffy linens, and gently
die!
We saw the chaste glow lamp
kneeling, failing along the walls, like the angels praying
bowed and our dreams,
melancholy and resigned, in the silence
Then my insane desire t'apparve
stripped as a sword, and
, groping on your body pure,
with a wild gesture violently tried
absorbing the warmth of your mouth.
Outside of us, intoxicated in a black, sinister
we took her lips, as if
commettessimo a crime!
s'accanirono
on my lips Tue, heavily
and our mouths as they were bloody
two spears!
With a sublime gesture, you
m'offristi, delirious, your nakedness
gentle as a pilgrim flask, and I
abbeverai immense
my thirst on your naked body, to delirium,
looking for the great Oblivion
trembling and dizzy like crazy
leaned my Soul
about your radiant beauty,
desperately, as above an abyss
dizzying scents and warm lights! Your eyes
s'illanguidirono
sweetly under the pink lids
blatant and veiled in filmy silk
bowing between your hair loose, I took
at last your soul, all your soul
, religiously,
stretched lips,
as you take the consecrated host. When I regained
the way to the depth of my heart
livid nights, made black, was thirsty, I drank greedily
and the black water fountains
Then I fled, plunging my steps into the unknown
Since are the beggar
that goes along the beaches
begging kisses and love, to nurture his dream
with terror in my heart forever
to sink his feet in the cool
bleeding flesh of the sands, near to the seas, in
Sera of some
dead tired and Void infinite!
Wednesday, my husband and I went to "find" our garden, much in need of care after the season hot shower that made in mid-August then, has caused the grass to grow strong and elongated too new branches: no need to clean up and a lot of trimming here and there . 
By now remain only the flowering plumbago, lantana and some branches of the bougainvillea: roses, not having received half pruning that usually do them after flowering in May , not have flourished. . Unfortunately, the hydrangeas are green, and are about to dry up: it's time to cut and make the first pruning. The crocuses 
From pomegranates swing but still not all the fruits have right degree of ripeness: the red ones are the highest points, almost impossible to achieve ... 
Piccolorfanello presented himself to claim the jelly! we expect almost always around, even in the garden .... comes up to me meowing, maybe ask me why we did not come first .. and then begins its rites: 
extends to the ground and rolls from side to side and then 
snoring loudly, looking at me looking forward to its good plate full! 
do not know if it's weird or not, but the plumbago was more Now that flowers in summer, and a pretty sight. 
Meanwhile, Xavier is getting ready to repaint the tank: the work are its worst .... I can not do much ... I remove the grass cut and watered poto .., but he who does the hard work is always heavier than him who takes away the grass, trim and prune and water, and takes away bags of grass and cut branches, and in addition maintains the house ... 
