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Don Quixote

Don Quixote (2024)  Ink drawing by  Maurizio Puglisi  "To think that the things of this life must always remain fixed in one point is to think in vain; in fact it seems that life goes in circles, I mean, come and go: spring follows summer, summer follows autumn, autumn follows winter, winter springs, and so time returns to revolve uninterruptedly; only human life runs to its end faster than the wind, without waiting to be renewed, if not in the other which has not boundaries that limit it." Miguel de Cervantes - Don Quixote of La Mancha inks , watercolor, on paper 200 g/m https://www.artfinder.com/products/don-quixote-afe99/

Sei di nuovo fame.

Sei di nuovo fame.

Avevo paura di riscrivere il mio ultimo errore in questa vita
Avevo paura che il silenzio si spezzasse


Ma Inaspettato un sussurra nell'orecchio

Nei campi che sono cresciuti di nuovo.
Nei campi guardare i fiori soffiati dal vento.

Come un bambino

Sono di nuovo a casa

E tu sei così bella

Piccola scintilla, che si tiene tra le mani
Cuore tenero, respiro i tuoi sospiri

Sei di nuovo fame
Sei un nuovo dono.

Ciò che era perduto, è illuminato di nuovo



Maurizio Puglisi 2016

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Don Quixote

Don Quixote (2024)  Ink drawing by  Maurizio Puglisi  "To think that the things of this life must always remain fixed in one point is to think in vain; in fact it seems that life goes in circles, I mean, come and go: spring follows summer, summer follows autumn, autumn follows winter, winter springs, and so time returns to revolve uninterruptedly; only human life runs to its end faster than the wind, without waiting to be renewed, if not in the other which has not boundaries that limit it." Miguel de Cervantes - Don Quixote of La Mancha inks , watercolor, on paper 200 g/m https://www.artfinder.com/products/don-quixote-afe99/

Autumn Song

  Autumn Song (2023) Ink drawing by  Maurizio Puglisi   “ Autumn Song” by Paul Verlaine When a sighing begins In the violins Of the autumn -song, My heart is drowned In the slow sound Languorous and long Pale as with pain, Breath fails me when The hours toll deep. My thoughts recover The days that are over, And I weep. And I go Where the winds know, Broken and brief, To and fro, As the winds blow A dead leaf . “Chanson d’automne” by Paul Verlaine, from Poèmes saturniens (1866) 

Phoenix rising

Phoenix rising watercolor and ink Maurizio Puglisi 2017 private collection USA