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Publisher online and owner: Sabahudin Hadžialić, MSc Sarajevo & Bugojno, Bosnia and Herzegovina MI OBJEDINJUJEMO RAZLIČITOSTI... WE ARE UNIFYING DIVERSITIES |
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Giorgio Bolla, Padova, Italy
A 54-year-old Italian poet, Adria born and living in Padova .
He carries out two professions: pediatric surgeon and racing-driver too.
He has published seven collections of poems: Solo immagini,Il motore del tempo,Mnesis,Assoli di oboi,Ruote Alate,Skhandha,Epistolario.
Last July – 2011 – he was won the Grand Prize of Mediterranean Poetry (Larissa - Greece) and the Prize “Città di Lerici”.On 12th November 2011 he was won the Prize “AmbiArt” - Milano .
Next year (2012) he wins the Prize “Ville de Paris-Victor Hugo” and the Prize “Citta’ di Venezia San Marco” .
Its own poetry appears necessarily and guides its hand of writer .
He carries out two professions: pediatric surgeon and racing-driver too.
He has published seven collections of poems: Solo immagini,Il motore del tempo,Mnesis,Assoli di oboi,Ruote Alate,Skhandha,Epistolario.
Last July – 2011 – he was won the Grand Prize of Mediterranean Poetry (Larissa - Greece) and the Prize “Città di Lerici”.On 12th November 2011 he was won the Prize “AmbiArt” - Milano .
Next year (2012) he wins the Prize “Ville de Paris-Victor Hugo” and the Prize “Citta’ di Venezia San Marco” .
Its own poetry appears necessarily and guides its hand of writer .
Učesnik 3. Poetskog maratona, 21.3.2013., Sarajevo, (BiH)
Participant of 3. Poetry marathon, 21.3.2013., Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina
Participant of 3. Poetry marathon, 21.3.2013., Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina
Giorgio Bolla and our Editor in chief, Sabahudin Hadzialic in Sarajevo, March 2013.
Book and DVD
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SECOND PLACE WINNER-GIORGIO BOLLA - "SEEKING FOR A POEM"
2. INTERNATIONAL POETRY COMPETITION 2012.
VILLA AMIRA, Street Ante Starčevića 33,
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LP vinyl sell from
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Ozbiljnost lepršavosti
Unutar mogućih alternativa usmjerenih molitvi bića, Giorgio Bolla svoju predanost ljubavlju liječi. Istovremeno pokušavajući, ali i uspijevajući, biti drugačiji. Od ljubavi. Ozbiljan. Unutar sopstvene lepršavosti. Pjesnici traže, ali i nalaze odgovore na mnoštvo pitanja koje susreću na cesti posutoj žutom ciglom. Neka od njih zaobiđu, svjesno ili ne, ali na neka i odgovore. Giorgio? On je pitanje samo. I kada ga susretnete, pokušajte odgovoriti na njega. Čitanjem poezije. Njega. Jer, i dalje je ozbiljan. U svojoj lepršavosti istine o ljubavi, ali i životu. Riječ urednika Sabahudin Hadžialić 29.11.2012. |
Seriousness of the fluttering
Inside of the possible alternatives directed towards the prayer of the being, Giorgio Bolla heals his commitment with love. At the same time, trying, and succeeding, to be different. From love. Serious one. Within its own fluttering. Poets are looking for, but also find answers to many questions they encounter on the road covered with yellow brick. Some of them they circumvent, consciously or not, and on some of them they gave answers. Giorgio? He is the question itself. And when you meet him, try to answer on him. Reading of the poetry. Of Him. Because, he is still serious. Within his fluttering truth about love, but also about life. Editor's word Sabahudin Hadžialić 29.11.2012. |
CLIMBS
Falls of the moon
dry up your eyes
when I hazard journeys
gliding over sweet
climbs.
I am afraid more than
You do,
after all,
I claim the sense
of the world and
I cross hidden thresholds
but You secure your
need for me
in ardent suns
of benches
attached to expected
climbs.
Como es lindo el mi gato
improvisado sobre la madera
del mundo
las alas a comentario
del dia,
como vuela el mi gato,
a rociadas la libertad
del tiempo
acudie la noche.
DOLCEACQUA
Why I must say
if I don’t say
Life must occur
and which is the close
where I am a cipher?
I cannot sight you
inside the narrow roads
that rise
to flowers coloured of water
and that turn before the air
just respired,
between the occasions.
I cannot seek you,
although I should like it,
and then I should like to love you
but I don’t know
if I will be good at it.
HAIKU
Assaults of moons
into the light of violated
noons,
embrace above the ridge.
I will send to you my heart
of whitish lion
in a evening of august,
over the mountains and the grasslands
of my lips
above a carpet of dewy
tears .
La petite fleur
cherchera la lune
et viendra sur mon pas
piccolo fiore
ti corre dietro la notte
vince
vince il sogno
piccolo fiore
hai aperto il cuore,
ora non più.
Pas plus.
Like shadow
on opened cutters of sky
the snow leopard was arrived,
on its rocks
and absolute dream.
METAPHORS FOR NOTHING
You had been at me
I led you
to see the river.
Where is the water
of your run;
we go together again,
rosy domes
tonight
beyond our
images
sweet by azure sugar,
like the angelical
wings.
Every time at the end of the day,
and then I don’t know if the night is
more fine than dawn,
its verity is a land
without paths.
Bizarre angel,
you march over the roofs of dreams,
I picture to myself your
run was wearing the time
of wish.
PASSAGE
What Orpheus does not
know, Eurydice’s beyond
knows.
SUPPOSED DREAMS
The rise of heart
in ravines above afternoons
on parvis or crests
of hilly swellings
white into the reveries.
Like shadow
on opened cutters of sky
the snow leopard has arrived,
on its rocks
and absolute dream.
Vado nel cuore del mondo
e guardo Ange che sale le sue
lune,
vado nel sogno del mondo
bordo a bordo negli altipiani
assaltati dal galoppo
delle tigri dipinte da bizzarre
menti.
Assomiglio al peregrinare
di svagati personaggi,
nel solco di capelli assetati
nel vento
opere perse e
piramidi di nubi .
Winter
I am going to enter
the yellow leaves
but without light
inside the green
hills.
With petrous wings
You will put in
my hands
your belt of
young girl;
then incense will go,
to lead the scents
TEMPI’s SONG
The river of stones
will go out
but your silence
is landing
into the veins
of my horses.
Falls of the moon
dry up your eyes
when I hazard journeys
gliding over sweet
climbs.
I am afraid more than
You do,
after all,
I claim the sense
of the world and
I cross hidden thresholds
but You secure your
need for me
in ardent suns
of benches
attached to expected
climbs.
Como es lindo el mi gato
improvisado sobre la madera
del mundo
las alas a comentario
del dia,
como vuela el mi gato,
a rociadas la libertad
del tiempo
acudie la noche.
DOLCEACQUA
Why I must say
if I don’t say
Life must occur
and which is the close
where I am a cipher?
I cannot sight you
inside the narrow roads
that rise
to flowers coloured of water
and that turn before the air
just respired,
between the occasions.
I cannot seek you,
although I should like it,
and then I should like to love you
but I don’t know
if I will be good at it.
HAIKU
Assaults of moons
into the light of violated
noons,
embrace above the ridge.
I will send to you my heart
of whitish lion
in a evening of august,
over the mountains and the grasslands
of my lips
above a carpet of dewy
tears .
La petite fleur
cherchera la lune
et viendra sur mon pas
piccolo fiore
ti corre dietro la notte
vince
vince il sogno
piccolo fiore
hai aperto il cuore,
ora non più.
Pas plus.
Like shadow
on opened cutters of sky
the snow leopard was arrived,
on its rocks
and absolute dream.
METAPHORS FOR NOTHING
You had been at me
I led you
to see the river.
Where is the water
of your run;
we go together again,
rosy domes
tonight
beyond our
images
sweet by azure sugar,
like the angelical
wings.
Every time at the end of the day,
and then I don’t know if the night is
more fine than dawn,
its verity is a land
without paths.
Bizarre angel,
you march over the roofs of dreams,
I picture to myself your
run was wearing the time
of wish.
PASSAGE
What Orpheus does not
know, Eurydice’s beyond
knows.
SUPPOSED DREAMS
The rise of heart
in ravines above afternoons
on parvis or crests
of hilly swellings
white into the reveries.
Like shadow
on opened cutters of sky
the snow leopard has arrived,
on its rocks
and absolute dream.
Vado nel cuore del mondo
e guardo Ange che sale le sue
lune,
vado nel sogno del mondo
bordo a bordo negli altipiani
assaltati dal galoppo
delle tigri dipinte da bizzarre
menti.
Assomiglio al peregrinare
di svagati personaggi,
nel solco di capelli assetati
nel vento
opere perse e
piramidi di nubi .
Winter
I am going to enter
the yellow leaves
but without light
inside the green
hills.
With petrous wings
You will put in
my hands
your belt of
young girl;
then incense will go,
to lead the scents
TEMPI’s SONG
The river of stones
will go out
but your silence
is landing
into the veins
of my horses.
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Design: Sabi / Autors & Sabahudin Hadžialić. Design LOGO - Stevo Basara.
Freelance gl. i odg. urednik od / Freelance Editor in chief as of 2009: Sabahudin Hadžialić
All Rights Reserved. Publisher online and owner: Sabahudin Hadžialić
WWW: http://sabihadzi.weebly.com
Contact Editorial board E-mail: [email protected];
Narudžbe/Order: [email protected]
Pošta/Mail: Freelance Editor in chief Sabahudin Hadžialić,
Grbavička 32, 71000 Sarajevo i/ili
Dr. Wagner 18/II, 70230 Bugojno, Bosna i Hercegovina
Design: Sabi / Autors & Sabahudin Hadžialić. Design LOGO - Stevo Basara.
Freelance gl. i odg. urednik od / Freelance Editor in chief as of 2009: Sabahudin Hadžialić
All Rights Reserved. Publisher online and owner: Sabahudin Hadžialić
WWW: http://sabihadzi.weebly.com
Contact Editorial board E-mail: [email protected];
Narudžbe/Order: [email protected]
Pošta/Mail: Freelance Editor in chief Sabahudin Hadžialić,
Grbavička 32, 71000 Sarajevo i/ili
Dr. Wagner 18/II, 70230 Bugojno, Bosna i Hercegovina
