Flowers and lightning
Preface
The poet fails to see the world around him, transcending what the eyes see, and in this Cristina Bove does not deny, because in her mind this extraordinary virtue and is coeval with the ability to communicate clearly, I would say clear, the feelings of his soul.
This collection includes one hundred poems, only a fraction of that number during his life has created, without ever being repetitive.
In "Flowers and lightning," though in many themes, which shines the sensitive hand can move in the direction, with admirable simplicity, the most varied emotions, from the torment of a memory outrage at the fate of the weakest.
Cristina's soul is a mirror that reflects visions bouncing on paper pregnant with intimate considerations, a realization that only the comparison between reality and the feeling transformed into messages, suffused hours, often silent, and almost never cries disclaimers.
There is a vision of existence, even in its most tragic, leaving the hope of love, understood in its broadest sense, that give bonus without spontaneous response and that feel more alive, as I love the voices in " I love the subdued voices that speak without saying who can hurt who choose silence when silence is good," or teeming with lights , a lyric-inspired almost bucolic, where the reference to death is to emphasize the love of life, a sort of antithesis, which enhances the value .
There are intimate poems, where the eyes turn to himself and trying to know the answer to so many and I think about it should be noted particularly the religious spirit found in so many ways, a vision of life that goes beyond the dogmas of religion to lead to the dubious realization that some unknown entity to us preside over the destinies of the world, the steps we walk each day, facts and events we attend according to a script do not know, but someone has well defined.
logical question that we all say, but that the sensitivity of the author knows how to bring them into possible answers in the light of reason have a meaning without being certain, because the only tangible reality is the life is that the flow of time that we are born until the posting, a detachment that may also be mediated, like when someone dear to us leave us without that we can do anything, a sudden awareness of our powerlessness of men who we think we know everything, but we do not know why we exist.
this regard is poignant To my mother, where Cristina writes " donaste While life that did not allow me to give it to you ," a translation of thought leading from the individual to the universal pathos, a dramatic awareness that the life cycle can not be changed.
more flowers that lightning, so that wise use and never to the redundant metaphors, fluid, crystal serves the author's philosophy, a simple concept, but the large scope for the good of the world: life is one, with other positive and negative aspects, but in any case deserves to be carried out fully, to love her with all his strength, which is not an act of selfishness, because what one should aspire to are actually the true values \u200b\u200bas the foundation of every civilization, because it is innate and that humanity is brought in following centuries, every now and then forget it, in vain pursuit of the fetishes happiness.
final, obligatory note: read the poems of Cristina Bove is like entering another dimension, in a softly suspended, that instills a great sense of peace.
Renzo Montagnoli
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