Francesca Neri Francesca Neri Francesca Neri Francesca Neri Francesca Neri Francesca Neri Francesca Neri Francesca Neri Francesca Neri Francesca Neri Francesca Neri

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       JULY 26th...Coming this week, a new Review!

                           ..............BLADE 2, Gulliermo Del Toro, 2002



The words of Puccini's hero come to mind: Per sogni e per chimere e per castelli in aria, l’anima ho milionaria. Ma dal mio forziere rubano tutti i gioielli due ladri: Gli occhi belli…

And yet still a pleasure! it will surely continue, e senza cadere.

How can it be described? I'd use the phrase 'First laid eyes on her' was an early spring Sunday, and Collateral Damage happened to be on.....but that would be inaccurate, implying something other than stumbling reaction. Seeing her for the first time? The fact is my eyes retreated somehow, defensively, as if to weather the assault, as though in that moment caught suddenly under a breaking wave...

As though knowing what was to come!

A certain phrase I found within Berlitz sums it up nicely, as I hope it did happily and may I say fluently repeated from memory, with little needed of encouragement, more than once at a recent college reunion:

"Non ho visto una donna così bella dall'ultima volta che ho guardato le illustrazioni in un libro di fate..."

In 1950, at least (the first edition date of that Italian primer), the term 'un libro di fate' means 'a book of fairy tales'. The fictional speaker, a visiting American named Miller, is exclaiming, sotto voce, about a lady he also has just seen for the first time--the lovely, if also imaginary Amalia.

Francesca Neri, on the other hand, need not be imagined.

Thanks be to God--if as in all things, still, especially for that! When I was a schoolboy, friends, especially those in parochial school, sometimes debated regarding the Almighty's ability to create a rock somehow too huge for Him to lift.

To me, Francesca's beauty is perhaps as tremendous. Somehow to lift it--to do it justice or merely to bear it...

Well, it could happen...and he salutes her, who is about to try.


Il cielo è pieno,
La chiesa della notte;
Dovunque che vedo,
Tutto è stelle

Pigro o altrimenti,
Con il mio venti-venti,
Nella foschia,
Alla deriva,
Non posso contare.

Ma non ho bisogno,
A causa di Lei:
Tu sei la prima,
Un duomo
In quel mare.

© 2020 Dave Blanchard… .to Francesca Neri

Where Daylight (iii.—The Tavern)

What beauty that could send words so awry
Did cry, of course, for more…though I had been
From Corso D’Alba to the lakes of May
Where loom in ancient guard, til then,
Each somber pass, against what few who try,
Whose peaks now on the summer heavens play...

These were my splendors all, if once again
The protests of each somber lass whom I
Would more recall…Yet what he had to say
Of beauty—of this creature, and her power!
Dispelled what passing notions held before…

For my repast, at least a happy hour
A bargain and the likely rate to pay
Within a tavern’s walls, for hearing more.

© 2020 Dave Blanchard…to Francesca Neri

Where Daylight (xxiv.–La Belle Dame avec Merci)

As though in counter-point now to the gale,
Its shrieking settled to a softer moan,
He rose to leave--now turned, as though his tale
Demanded more. With effort in his tone,

Its substance lighter in the massive hall,
He spoke again, a torch now in his eyes:
Most lovely, and indifferent, too, of all
To love, save it should profit her, the guise?

Or yet if private, one of greater good—
A heart that anyone can see her wear…
Not gaudily, as all the world would;
Instead—where else? Her face. Look for it there.

Quite gaudily indeed, the breezes through
The door, now as it closed; the distant view.

© 2020 Dave Blanchard…to Francesca Neri