Antonio Casolari: My mother tongue is not the English language. Fifty years ago, the prevalent language in Italian schools was the French one. So I know quite well the French language; while my English is very poor. I love the English language. The language of Virginia Woolf. I'm a searcher. A Biologist. Just from my first contact with the science, I began to read scientific papers in English. Forty years of readings. Always in English. I love the English language. It was my very life. While I never acquired enough knowledge of the beloved, I published two poems in The National Library of Poets [Sullivan Ed., MA], 1992, 1996. The fall of 1987 I made a trip coast-to-coast by car, with my wife Emma and my son Fabio: NY to S.Francisco. And it was the definitive consolidation of my enthusiasm for the States. Someone wishing to know the matter of my prevalent scientific interest: 'Microbial Death', in Physiological Models in Microbiology, ed. by Bazin, M.J. & Prosser, J.I., Vol. II, CRC Press Inc., Boca Raton, FA, 1988.

Favorite thoughts:

"Science is unique among all human activities - unlike law, business, art, or religion - in its identification with progress." Arthur Kornberg, Stanford Univ., California

"There are in fact TWO things, SCIENCE and Opinion. The former begets KNOWLEDGE, the latter Ignorance." Hippocrates

"Equations are more important ... because ... an equation is something for eternity." A. Einstein

AWAY from Europe

Cereal and sunflowers
In basketful, I took here

because I knew the chill and thirst
of some empty centuries on that poor land
realm of beasts, just called Europe

I shed on the ground
All my loot: dreams, labour, love, eyes;

the way is coming to finish
I don't want more to breath
Within such desert of souls

Within such rough brushwood
Burnt by hate, withered by ignorance

I lose here everything
I'll go somewhere else

I want to give my bones gnawed
by drought and by wind

while to be free
Far away
From this kennel of idiots.

Copyright (c) 1999 by Antonio Casolari

American Design

the place where pathways are open in the sun
and women are smiles and sounds in the wind.
I look for the States
from this remote and abominable place called Europe
      [mother of nazism and fascism and communism abjections]
I want to be free at You, America
I want to be near voices making pathways flourish on the moon
I want to live there, with the basket of my mind
I want to plug my feet on your lands
up to become a tree of your forest
I want to be sure you being there, America,
under a desert of light
where lost gates become buds of quarks frenzied in the hands
where words do spread inside a kind of rain
and drag the universe in the deep sky of the mind
and do shape it.

Copyright (c) 1999 by Antonio Casolari


I gather ring of glances
to mind coral of memory.

When together
We'll spring
Over the waves of the sea
And we'll go for sandy games
In a sunny court

I'll unleash the laces
At your ankles
And also you will see
The white trails and long
Left by minds
Gliding in the sky
In a morning springtime.

Copyright (c) 1999 by Antonio Casolari

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