Watered “fuoco”?

I can’t even fish out my own thoughts. Not good.

It’s a bit like being thrown into the deep end of a pool, I guess… No one around you of course, but when you put your head under the water, you can hear the sound of life coming through from the other far end, carrying through the water… Are you able to find it?

Don’t you wish you could go to the world of fairy-tales, sometimes? Or perhaps, to be imaginative, the world of physics? So why is it that we are put in these situations? I’m afraid I don’t have the answer, I’m looking for it myself…

Go listen to Schumann’s Dichterliebe. Though it doesn’t describe me, I can identify.

Und wüßten’s die Blumen, die kleinen,
Wie tief verwundet mein Herz,
Sie würden mit mir weinen,
Zu heilen meinen Schmerz.

Sie alle können’s nicht wissen,
Nur eine kennt meinen Schmerz.

I don’t know any German. hehe. But I have the translation, which I shall conviniently forget to give. To fully comprehend you need to listen to the music, though.

I just can’t gather my thoughts today, they are too spread out all over the place.

You know, thinking of the years gone by, it seems to me that as time passes, what I want and need becomes less and less, what I’m looking for is so undefined, yet what I’m looking for seems to be of more importance. Don’t even ask me what I mean, for I would not be able to give an answer.

Behold,
long and dark winter days,
is the foreboding of my soul,
The gloom of my very mind.

But when spring breaks,
when all the flowers bloom,
a vast plain of smell and sight,
A joyful time to behold.

It is all useless,
for somewhere behind all these,
is but a moment in time,
because autumn will always come.

A longing etched within my soul,
burning, with fire so strong,
I long so much for something,
for which I don’t even know.

I seek, endlessly,
into the night and right to the edge,
I cannot find what I’m looking for,
for I do not even know what it is.

For what is it I think I seek?
It is but a dream,
which shall never come to pass,
not while I am trapped.

O when shall I be freed,
to love and to be loved?
It is just out of the dimensions,
of which my mind can perceive.

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