VERSES 'A l' accent familier
nous devinons the specter '
the night as elastic
cars roam the depths, with the headlights
bright, derail on curves steered mobile
Dry
of lunar flashes are the spectral plot of skeletons and twigs
light
ceilings whitewashed? Among the dense mesh
d 'a doze leading
blood with sand greens and phosphoric
dried up, oh if it hits the' eye of the mind that
transit, and theoretical
drives him insane in the evil eye
ago by deus ex machina ! ... Read
of metal and gas, the live feathers
rapid t 'attack - the' acumen
t 'in open chest, and the rustle of the sails.
T 'chest open in the mad
blinded by the light moths, and in deadly silence
chants of mobile soft tires, come in dense
ghost - comes in mild crushes
transparencies del ghiaino che gremisce
le giunture dell' ossa, e in pigolii
minimi penetrando ove finisce
sul suo orlo la vita, là Euridice
tocchi, cui nebulosa e sfatta casca
la palla morta di mano. E si dice
il sangue che c' è amore ancora, e schianta
inutilmente la tempia, oh le leghe
lunghe che ti trascinano - il rumore
di tenebra, in cui il battito del cuore
ti ferma in petto il fruscio delle streghe!
Ti ferma in petto il richiamo d' Averno
che dai banchi di scuola ti sovrasta
metallurgico, il senso è in quell' eterno
rombo di fibre rotolanti a un' asta
assurda di chilometri, sui lidi
nubescenti di latte trovi requie
nell' assurdo delirio -Trovi i gridi
spenti in un' acqua che appanna una quiete
senza umano riscontro, ed è nel raggio
d' ombra che di qua penetra i pensieri
che là prendono corpo, che al paesaggio
di siero, lungo i campi dei Cimmeri
del tuo occhio disfatto, riconosci
il tuo lémure magro (il familiare
spettro della tua scienza) nel pulsare
di quei pistoni nel fitto dei boschi.
Nel pulsare del sangue del tuo Enea
solo nella catastrofe, cui sgalla
il piede ossuto la rossa fumea
bassa che arrazza il lido. Enea che in spalla
un passato che crolla tenta invano
di porre in salvo, e al rullo d' un tamburo
ch'è uno schianto of walls, the hand was still so frail
future
not stand upright. In 'funeral blaze
d' an escape on a hot sand
even blood, which can never escape
Essert the sea (the moth
green lights from white) if
with him feel that in a start point
d 'extreme solitude, you have come
more accurate and uncertain of our dark years?
the point where, by dragging the red lantern
his heel, Aeneas a pier
look at that piercing eye sea
to offer more ground -
to offer his heart to a widower (father, son of
- to heart of the 'benighted
prince d' Aquitaine), than lean
torri abolite l' imbarco sperato
da chiunque non vuol piegarsi. E,
con l' alba già spuntata a cancellare
sul soffitto quel transito, non è
certo un risveglio la luce che appare
timida sulla calce. Il tremolio
scialbo del giorno in erba, in cui già un sole
che stenta a alzarsi allontana anche in cuore
di quei motori il perduto ronzio.
EPILOGO Sentivo lo scricchiolio,
nel buio, delle mie scarpe:
sentivo quasi di talpe
seppellite un rodio
sul volto, ma sentivo
già prossimo ventilare
anche il respiro del mare.
Era una sera di tenebra,
seems to Pegli, or Sestri.
I had left Genoa on foot, and fresh blood
burned my grievances, as love.
M 'approximate the sea
destroy the feeling of cheep shoes
already heard of boats
off a smell of tar and night
the rinsing, but also
already feeling the sun, broken, my ribs
, white.
I had reached the sand, but without
have more vigor.
Maybe it was the weight in the shoes of
'water of my years.
A TULLIO maybe I could live here I could possibly write
I could even say
here is my kind die
Genoa City Fina:
slate and gravel sea.
Sea and girls
clear glass necklaces with fresh
(
girls turn back the flask on the door before you come home
)
ah
lose the name of Rome, emphasis and urine.
here maybe I could write:
I could possibly live.
L 'ELEVATOR When I go to heaven do not want you to know how long a bell
dawn of tile - of rainwater. When I am
decided to go there, I'll go to heaven
the elevator
Castelletto, at night, stealing a little
time to my rest.
I'll go steal (perhaps
of mouth)
small pieces of bread to my two children. But there
hear the breathing of the sea
black light in my eye, e. ..
maybe (maybe) on the lookout
where you are in a dressing gown, who knows
between the rabble stirred up (including the graceful young
on leave with the smell of powder and living life
) does not give
under a lantern my mother.
With her I'm going to look
the white lights on the sea. We'll
the railing of iron - we just
and boyfriends, as
ever in many years we have been.
E quando le si farà a puntini,
al brivido della ringhiera,
la pelle lungo le braccia,
allora con la sua diaccia
spalla se n'andrà lontana:
la voce le si farà di cera
nel buio che la assottiglia,
dicendo "Giorgio, oh mio Giorgio
caro: tu hai una famiglia."
E io dovrò ridiscendere,
forse tornare a Roma.
Dovrò tornare a attendere
(forse) che una paloma
bIanca da una canzone per radio,
sulla mia stanca
spalla si posi. E alfine
(alfine) dovrò riporre
la penna, chiuder la càntera:
"É festa", dire a Rina
e al maschio, e alla mia bambina.
And the heart of the ash
I heard the bell, heard
taste of tiles,
winter rainwater.
But no! I decided if I
one day, the Paradiso
I will take the elevator
Castelletto, hours
night, stealing a little time to
my rest.
steal a rose
even then, my sweet bride, you will change into poison
mild leaving the ground floor and say, "Hello,
write me sometimes," closed the door while
allentatosi and brake
a thrill the glass shook.
And then I moved up to
break my heart I feel down
tiles on my
most bitter tears, and say "Who plays, who is playing this bell
water and rainwater that washes altr'acqua
not forgive me?"
And while, according to the soil, mild
you say, "Hello, write," the brake
still shaking a little glass, between the living
living with your handkerchief
timid to sigh
I'll see you stay only
above the earth
just like the day you left for war.
WOMAN OPENS RIVIERE six women marine
woman who opens rivers.
The morning air is white
Your
salt air and
sails to the wind, flags are explained on board the large
your clothes so clear.
Stornello My Genoa defense and keeper.
slate mine. Sandstone.
houses so strong colors
to cool in the open air
is in vain that learns from your homes, hanging in the breeze
saline, a firmness
my life precarious.
Genova my stone. Iris. Air.
FOR Still a young girl with palpitations, anxiety
you kidnapped
continuous
fleeting hours, so careless
miro and the Peaces
fake air exposures
rices, and given that all six scents
of rock, with strong aromas
upstream or fumes
wines in youth
knees, you do not know how many traps
sian thick
the few days your delicious.
to youth Day
wonderful wood and adorned with rich aromas
, are you that the songs of the girls melt
bent needle. And the linens,
and dreams, and the notes of the clarinets
rough to the ball, bears faint embroidery
- Fairs songs, and crashes
love
human breasts.
WHEN PASSAVA Livorno, quando lei passava,
d'aria e di barche odorava.
Che voglia di lavorare
nasceva, al suo ancheggiare!
Sull'uscio dello Sbolci,
un giovane dagli occhi rossi
restava col bicchiere
in mano, smesso di bere.
PER LEI Per lei voglio rime chiare,
usuali: in -are.
Rime magari vietate,
ma aperte, ventilate.
Rime coi suoni fini
(di mare) dei suoi orecchini.
O che abbiano, coralline,
le tinte delle sue collanine.
Rime che a distanza
(Annina era così schietta)
conservino l'eleganza
povera, ma altrettanto netta.
rhymes that are ephemeral
Although catchy. Rime
not twilight, but
green elementary.
ALBA Something insipid, with its flavor
wet meadows, this morning in my mouth
still asleep.
's eyes start out as the water of the swamps
houses, the bridge, the olive trees:
without heat.
E 'no salt
the world: the sun.
BEACH IN THE EVENING So at this faded look of the sea, which appears in the eyes
(stains just
indigo blue)
lifeguard pulling in dry
boats. As a main falls
the last piece of the sun.
Of all the laughter of women,
a lazy white foam
to algae, and a cool wind that room
face
remains.
CONDITION one man,
in his room.
With all his reasons.
All his wrongs.
Only in an empty room, talking
. To the dead.
Because I ... ... because I, who only live in the night,
too, at night, rubbing a match
on the wall, I light a candle cautious
white in my mind - I open a sail
timid in the darkness, and the nib crunch
rubbing me, I write and rewrite
silent and long
tears that wet my mind.
LO SPATRIATO They took him away from the place of his tongue. I have downloaded
evil in a foreign land.
Now, no longer knows where his tribe is
. You lost.
calls. Gropes. Screams.
worse than if it were silent.
CADENCE Tonica, third, fifth, seventh
decreased.
remains unresolved so
the agreement of my life?
May In good weather the evening of May
become long, and the smell of hay
the road from the bottom, heated
in full moonlight, the cheerful sing
away from the tavern ,
and laughter of young people in love, a peaceful space
open doors and chest.
pleasant month of May! And as the hot gusts
lifted from the grass lawns of hilar
light, lively
to your tunes over their faces lit
a new hope of a great nights
more human
warms the delicate eyes, and blood, to young brides.
THE WAGON GLASS The morning sun,
in me, and acute spine.
the chariot made of glass because I went back? They carried away
Annina
(the sun) that morning.
were four horses (blacks) with no rattles.
Annina Palermo
with me at night she died, and in winter.
Outside there was a storm.
Then he began to dawn. From the nearby barracks
then, even that morning, because
began to play the alarm in the military?
was the first morning of his not being able to arouse.
PRAYER O my soul, light
goes' in Livorno, please. And with your candle
Shy, by night
is' a ride, and if n'hai time,
patrols and searches, and if by any chance write
Anna Picchi
is still alive among the living.
Just today I come back,
disappointed, from Livorno.
But you, the more clear to me
,
remember her blouse, and the ruby \u200b\u200b
of blood, serpentine
gold
she wore on her breast, where s'appannava.
my soul, be good
and go 'in search of her.
You know what I'd met her on the street if
atque in perpetuum, Brother ... Atque in perpetuum, frater ...
As winter snow
how I went through, Piero,
to visit you.
What greeted me?
Frost
of your death, and all
all that snow white
of February - Black
your grave.
I said my prayers I
rite. But only
,
Piero, to tell you goodbye and
goodbye forever, I
that you had the only true
friend, my brother.
THOUGHT PIO Is he not be in the immensity of God?
DEUS ABSCONDITUS
Un semplice dato:
Dio non s'è nascosto.
Dio s'è suicidato.
PREGHIERA D'ESORTAZIONE O D'INCORAGGIAMENTO Dio di volontà,
Dio onnipotente, cerca
(sfòrzati), a furia d'insitere
-almeno- d'esistere.
SASSATE ho provato a parlare.
Forse, ignoro la lingua.
Tutte frasi sbagliate.
Le risposte: sassate.
A RINA Nell'aria di settembre (aria
d'innocenza sul chiareggiato
hill) over the rough clods
I care
houses
raw color of your home country.
joke
white ale from the rooftops bloom
joints, the doves
new.
As the air moves
flight around
round in the sky to touch
festive bells
is Lindor
of your virginal eyes.
BEACH IN THE EVENING So at this faded look of the sea, which appears in the eyes
(stains just
indigo blue)
lifeguard pulling in dry
boats. As a main falls
the last piece of the sun.
Of all the laughter of women,
a lazy white foam
to algae, and a cool wind that room
face
remains.
WOMAN OPENS RIVIERE six women marine
woman who opens rivers.
The morning air is your air
white
salt and sails to the wind, flags are explained on board the large
your clothes so clear.
CLAUSE Just to finish:
death, already so happy to live,
now should I die?
(I do not feel, to kill)
THEFT They stole God
The sky is empty.
The thief has not yet been
(never will be) arrested.
SQUARCIA cowardice of every theorem.
Know what the glass. Desperately
know what it is not the glass, the desperate evenings
when (the hand trembles, quivers
) in the paternal
is impossible to drink.
FOR HER you want to clear rhymes,
usual: in-ares. Rime
maybe prohibited, but open
: ventilated.
rhymes with sounds for
(of sea) of her earrings. Or have
, coral,
shades of his necklaces. Rime
that after
(Annina was so sincere)
retain the elegance
poor, but equally clear.
rhymes that are ephemeral, though
catchy. Rime
not twilight, but
green elementary.
Borgoratto also blazes
flowers on the balconies of this country,
fleeting memory now
forget the evening.
As an allegory,
a girl appears at the door of
. Behind him is a
confused shouting of men - and the bitter smell of wine
.
LITANY Genova my entire city.
Geranium. Powder keg.
Genoa iron and air,
my slate, sandstone.
Genoa city clean.
light breeze and uphill.
Genoa vertical
dizziness, air stairs.
Genoa black and white.
Cacumine. Distance.
Genoa where they live,
my name, noun. I will re
Genoa.
childhood. Syllabary.
my betrayed Genoa,
remorse of a lifetime.
Genoa group.
Joy. Soul.
Genoa alone,
little streets, ebrietudine.
Genoa lemon.
a mirror. Cannon.
Genoa in sight,
bricks, gravel, rocks.
Genoa gray and blue.
Girls. Bottles. Baskets.
Genoa tuff and sun, chased
, stone-throwing.
Genoa entire roof.
rubble. Castelletto.
Genoa made of air,
Albaro, Borgoratti.
Genoa that consumes me.
intestine. Alleyways.
Genoa and so be it,
sea in a tavern.
Genoa bruised. Winter
fingers.
Genoa Merchant
industrial and civil projects.
Genoa right of men.
Ansaldo. San Giorgio. Sestri.
quay in Genoa,
transatlantic lace.
Genoa entire site.
Bisagno. Belvedere.
Genova di canarino,
persiana verde, zecchino.
Genova di torri bianche.
Di lucri. Di palanche.
Genova in salamoia,
acqua morta di noia.
Genova di mala voce.
Mia delizia. Mia croce.
Genova d'Oregina,
lamiera, vento, brina.
Genova nome barbaro.
Campana. Montale, Sbarbaro.
Genova dei casamenti
lunghi, miei tormenti.
Genova di sentina.
Di lavatoio. Latrina.
Genova di petroliera,
struggimento, scogliera.
Genova di tramontana.
Di tanfo. Sottana.
Genova d'acquamarina,
area, turchina.
Genova di luci ladre.
Figlioli. Father. Mother. Genoa
old girl
madness, pot, television.
Soziglia Genoa.
tunnels. Poultry. Trilia.
Genoa garlic and roses,
Pré, Fountains of Masrose. Loading
Genoa.
Voltri. Dismay.
dell'Acquasola Genoa,
sweet, nightingale.
Genoa color throughout.
Flag. Tug.
Genoa alive and beloved,
salt, vegetable garden, parapet.
Genoa barrels.
Catholic. Water in April.
Genoa Communist
bowling, timing.
Corso Genova Oddone.
storm. Push.
Genoa squall,
madness, Paganini, Magnasco.
Genoa will not let me.
My girlfriend. Whore.
Genoa which is saying something, do not end
sigh.
Genoa fourth string.
siren that does not forget.
Genoa elevator,
paternal pang.
Genova my chest.
My falsetto. Ridge.
Genoa lit
night, wet riser. Genoa
of my brother.
Cathedral. Brothel.
Genova in violin,
mice, casino. Genoa
of my sister.
Sigh. Maris Stella.
Genoa port
Chinese, guttural.
Sottoripa Genoa. Emporio
. Sex. Stipa. Porta Genova
Soprana
angel and a bitch.
Genoa knife.
Fish. Mantle.
Genoa streetlight
gas consternation.
Raibetta Genoa.
Gatta Mora. Infect.
Genoa Witch
overhanging the teeth attached.
Genoa can not tell.
boats. Paint.
Genoa bathing
of damage from not forget.
Genoa "Paul & Lele."
reefs. Furious. Sails.
Genoa Villa Quartara,
where love learns.
Genoa barracks.
a dairy. Cum. My
Genova Sturla,
still in my blood screams.
Genoa silver and tin.
mosquito. Of scagno.
Genova di magro fieno,
canile, Marassi, Staglieno.
Genova di grige mura.
Distretto. La paura.
Genova dell'entroterra,
sassi rossi, la guerra.
Genova di cose trite.
La morte. La nefrite.
Genova bianca e a vela,
speranza, tenda, tela.
Genova che si riscatta.
Tettoia. Azzurro. Latta.
Genova sempre umana,
presente, partigiana.
Genova della mia Rina.
Valtrebbia. Aria fina.
Genova paese di foglie
fresche, dove ho preso moglie.
Genova sempre nuova.
Vita che si ritrova.
Genova lunga e lontana,
patria della mia Silvana.
Genova palpitante.
My Heart. My brilliant. Genoa
my home, where
m'è born Attilio.
dell'Acquaverde Genoa.
My father who is lost.
Genoa sobs,
my mother, Via Bernardo Strozzi.
Genoa complaints.
Aeneas. Bombing.
Genoa desperate
vain I implored.
Genova La Spezia. Childhood
that disagreement.
Genoa, Livorno,
departure with no return.
Genoa life.
My endless litany. Cod fish served
Genoa and pink, where fixed tilt
target
swallow: the rhyme.
VENETIAN Venetian
in the cool water of your eyes iridescent
, I find the grace of a witty
shaded
scene of the lagoon.
And sailors, and stretched
sails,
expectations for care and long days to sudden outbursts of joy
return, pretty dear and anxious eyes without discomfort
think, lively port of those neat
countries, where the grace of
salacious jokes and pranks tricks the living female
the interplay of so many departures and arrivals of many.
FAREWELL CEREMONY OF THE TRAVELER Friends, I think it's best for me
begin to pull down the suitcase.
Although I do not know
time of arrival, or even know which stations
precede mine,
sure signs tell me, how
m'è
ear coupling of these places, I will
I will soon leave.
Vogliatemi
forgive that little 'noise that I bring.
With you I was happy from the start, and much
I am grateful, believe me,
for good company. Still I would like to talk
long with you. But it is. The site of the transfer
do not know. I feel I must remind you however that
often in the new location, while
my eye already sees through the window, beyond smoke
wet fog that envelops us, the hard red
of my station.
I ask you to leave without being able to hide
,
mild consternation. It was so nice to talk
together, sitting in front: so nice
confused faces (smoking,
exchanging cigarettes), and all that
tell us (quell'inventare
easy to tell others),
to be able to confess that, even pressed, we would never have dared for a moment
(mistakenly) confident.
(Scusate. is a heavy suitcase
even if it does not contain much:
so much that I wonder why
I went, and what help I can give
then, when I have with me.
But while I have the lead, if only to follow
use.
Let me, please, go.
Here. Now that she is
in the hallway, I feel
looser. Please excuse).
I said, that was nice to be
together. Chat.
We had some quarrel, of course.
We - and this too is normal
-
hated on more than one place, and braked
only please.
But cos'importa.
is how, I'll tell you
, and heart,
thanks for good company.
leave her doctor
e alla sua faconda dottrina.
Congedo a te, ragazzina
smilza, e al tuo lieve afrore
di ricreatorio e di prato
sul volto, la cui tinta
mite è sì lieve spinta.
Congedo, o militare
(o marinaio! In terra
come in cielo ed in mare)
alla pace e alla guerra.
Ed anche a lei, sacerdote,
congedo, che m'ha chiesto s'io
(scherzava!) ho avuto in dote
di credere al vero Dio.
Congedo alla sapienza
e congedo all'amore.
Congedo anche alla religione.
Ormai sono a destinazione.
Ora che più forte sento
stridere il freno, vi lascio
davvero, amici. Addio.
Di questo, sono sure: I am now in despair
calmly, without fear.
go down. Good continuation.
The morning ride How thin down the stairs and young
Annina!
biting the chain of gold, he went away into the darkness leaving a trail
of Cyprus, which did not end.
The time was early morning
, even albino. But as
glowed
the street where she spent! All
Cors'Amedeo,
feeling, awoke. He knew the neo
on the lip, and thin neck and the pace
hilarious -
the belt tight, and that acrid kind
(Annina si voltava)
all'opera stimolava.
Andava in alba e in trina
pari a un'operaia regina.
Andava col volto franco
(ma cauto, e vergine, il fianco)
e tutta di lei risuonava
al suo tacchettio la contrada.
RICORDO Ricordo una chiesa antica,
romita,
nell'ora in cui l'aria s'arancia
e si scheggia ogni voce
sotto l'arcata del cielo.
Eri stanca,
e ci sedemmo sopra un gradino
come due mendicanti.
Invece il sangue ferveva
di meraviglia, a vedere
ogni uccello mutarsi in stella
nel cielo.
IN CORSA
Quant'erba francese.
Il «Palatino» fila
verso Parigi.
È giorno.
Passano villaggi gotici.
Boschi di profondo verde.
Il presente si perde
già nel futuro.
The future is already past.
are still in train.
; are
(a century) already returned.
SUNDAY EVENING first impression.
Pont du Carrousel.
piombopiccione color space. In the vacuum
Sunday
noise
the desert one step. The barge that
silent dating
the Seine, to slow the engine.
Giorgio Caproni is regarded by all as one of the greatest poets of the second half of last century the concepts of quality and quantity production, he writes almost continuously between 1932 and 1990 (the date of his own death). Its number of poems known to us than a thousand black and white compositions made in that long period of production. Caproni was born in Livorno January 7, 1912. In March 1922 he moved with his family in Genoa, where he completed his studies and enrolled at the Faculty of Education, also studying violin and composition and attending lectures in philosophy of Giuseppe Rensi. In 1936 she published her first collection of poems. Clerk, clerk, elementary teacher and then in 1938 he moved with his young wife, Rina, in Rome, where he will continue to do the master until 1973, apart and away from the literary salons. Dopo la guerra e la resistenza,spinto anche da necessità economiche, collabora più o meno saltuariamente a numerose riviste ("L'Unità", "Mondo operaio", "Avanti!", "Italia socialista", "Il lavoro nuovo", "La fiera letteraria", etc.), con articoli, racconti, traduzioni. Intensa la sua attività di traduttore di prosa e di poesia soprattutto dal francese; ricordiamo, tra l'altro:
Il tempo ritrovato di Proust,
I fiori del male di Baudelaire,
Morte a credito di Céline,
Bel-ami di Maupassant, Frénaud, Char, Genet, Apollinaire. Le sue raccolte poetiche guadagnano numerosi premi sin dalle
Stanze delle funicolare (Viareggio prize) and critical acclaim, but the great public success in Italy and abroad, arrives in 1975, with the wall of earth
(Gatti and Nobel Prize Jean Malrieu étranger, for best book published in French ), and confirmed with the Franco
hunter who gets the prizes and Montale Feltrinelli. The poet in 1984 received an honorary degree in Literature and Philosophy at the University of Urbino, and in 1985 an honorary citizen of Genoa, who had left an imprint in his life and his poetry. Among other honors, in 1986 gets the prizes Chianciano, Marradi Bell and Pasolini, for
Count Kevenhuller . The poet has died a Roma il 22 gennaio 1990. Bibliografia essenziale:
Come un'allegoria (1936);
Ballo a Fontanigorda (1938);
Finzioni (1941);
Cronistoria (1943);
Il passaggio d'Enea (1956);
Il seme del piangere (1959);
Congedo del viaggiatore cerimonioso (1965);
Il muro della terra (1975);
Il franco cacciatore (1982);
Il Conte di Kevenhuller (1986);
Res Amissa (1991);
Poesie (1932-1991) [1995].