Magic September

in poetry •  8 years ago  (edited)

..It is a chilly day in September and the clocks are striking 2 a.m. Indeed this feels good as an opening line, just as George Orwell did his novel, 1984 “It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.” In fact, there is nothing Orwellian in what I intend to write tonight, but it is rather a prelude of a certain feelings running in background since September started. To begin with, the weather changed. On the very first day of September the rains started and the scorching hot of Tirana finally vanished. And when I say scorching I really mean it, we’re talking Satan weather in here varying from 35 to 43 Celcius. Some will - or can - argue that this meteopathic thing doesn’t exist, but hey, when I woke up on the first of September and I saw clouds in the sky and the fresh air it felt like Heaven.

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Midnight in Warsaw. Last September

At least for me Septembers mark new beginnings. I feel the surge of energy, but not the kind of explosive energy of summer. Things become quiet, deep. All the haze of the strenuous summer disappears and now you have a new chance to get back to your life but with the opportunity to get it right. My friend M. thinks that this is based on a childhood memory since September marked the beginning of school, which meant the opportunity to rejoice with friends, the thrill of being in an upper grade, the curiosity of what this new year of school would be like. Perhaps she is right. On a poetic note, September is an invisible caress, it is an autumn leave just starting to drift, slowly; it is the feeling that everything will be alright, it is a sweet song .. like this one.


Yves Montand-Les feuilles mortes

And while you listen to it, I am bringing to you some verses I translated from Italian, taken from the movie “La Grande Belleza” (The Great Beauty) directed by Paolo Sorrentino (a must see, but really!).

"I used to spend all my summers
Making my plans for the Septembers to come
I am not doing it anymore;
Now, I spend the summer, bringing back the memories
Of the plans I used to do
Now these plans have vanished
Some, because of indolence, some because of forgetfulness

What is wrong with missing someone anyway ..?
This is the only amusement that remains to us
To us who don’t trust tomorrow
The only one!
….
The rains are still far, but August is ending now
And September isn’t knocking yet
Meanwhile I feel so average
But there is no reason for disquiet
Everything is just fine "

September is indeed magical; you feel everything is connected. For instance, you and me, who are reading this, met! We met through these lines I wrote past midnight, through this music that we are listening, through these verses .. Everything is just fine ..

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La Grande Bellezza - The migration of the birds ( https://criterionblues.com/2015/07/05/the-great-beauty-2013-paolo-sorrentino/)


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thanks for sharing this material, I like what you posted. Thank you so much

happy you liked it @jlufer. We should never cease listening to good music, and reading poems ..

September is always a special time for me, too. It seems like every year, no matter where I am, the days have shortened to make me want to wake up early instead of stay up late. I like everything better when I wake up early. It doesn't hurt that the garden is falling over on itself in ripeness, that the heat has broken, that there's that crispness in the air... I really enjoyed reading your lovely post about September. Mmmmm.