Pianto di stelle (Italian Edition)

Io non ho mai amato!

Pianto Di Stelle (Messaggi In Poesia)

Tende ancora la Mano Santa Iddio? Ed attendo che lo sgomento cessi quando si inerpica umile la luna. Valgono poco le parole.

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Neppure quel rinnovato miracolo genera giusto peso alle mie sillabe che vivide scandivano illusioni. Intendere se entrambi siamo despoti di noi stessi o del destino le vittime.

Filastrocca della settimana

Dynamis eterna della parola! Mi affanno in una sterile ricerca del ritmo del verso chiuso del verso libero del verso malchiuso e bacio e ribacio Eugenio Montale. Pensi serva qualcosa la mia opinione se questa che stendo come panni al sole sia Poesia? Non esiste modo per sfuggire al pegno. Entrava ella fragrante, mi cadea fra le braccia.

SAN FRANCISCO, ITALY / The Tears of San Lorenzo Fall on August 10th

E non ho amato mai tanto la vita, tanto la vita! And the stars were shining, And the earth was scented. The gate of the garden creaked And a footstep grazed the sand Fragrant, she entered And fell into my arms. Oh, sweet kisses and languorous caresses, While trembling I stripped the beautiful form of its veils!

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Forever, my dream of love has vanished. That moment has fled, and I die in desperation.

Giovanni Pascoli: August 10th

And I die in desperation! And I never before loved life so much, Loved life so much!

When the stars were brightly shining And faint perfumes the air pervaded, Creaked the gate of the garden And footstep its precincts invaded In her soft arms she clasped me Though his appearance suggests a jolly, portly, country-gentleman, his writing is full of grief and loss and bereavement, and an unassuageable unhappiness with his life and what it had to offer. Pascoli dismissed religion as well as science, and deprecated politics. He fostered his affinity with the natural world, and dwelt lovingly on the beauty of nature, but this love was never sufficient to sustain him.

To read his poetry is to feel muddled and sad and damply depressed. I prefer the salt and acid Leopardi seems to revel in pouring into the same sort of wound.

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The religious symbolism in this poem — and the sense of passive resignation to the gratuitous cruelties and vicissitudes of existence — belie the fact that Pascoli was an atheist. His uneasy mind seems to have been held the captive of a profound and troubled melancholy throughout his life.

His almost hysterical outpourings at the prospect of their separation and the thought of forfeiting her affection, attest to an intense attachment and a profound sense of loss. You are commenting using your WordPress. You are commenting using your Twitter account. You are commenting using your Facebook account. Notify me of new comments via email.