Leremita (I luoghi e i giorni) (Italian Edition)

In Sewn Line , the use of white stitching as drawn line on delicate white paper suggests a binding seam as well as a kind of spectral genetic memory, while the inclusion of an antique sewing machine and table insists that the work as a whole take its place in the world that we ourselves inhabit, a world in which the past exerts itself mysteriously on the present. Memory is not fanciful. An actual substance, rather, bound to the lives of subsequent generations, however obscure or enigmatic that connection appears to the eye. Handling and saving confer a tenuous reassurance, a kind of safety, and so, like Taverniti and Fragione, she never relinquishes the physical actuality of things.

In this group, Marisa Tesauro is most willing to court extremities of ambiguity, inference, and humor, a strategy carried forward with the adept wit that informs Materia Prima, a small bronze replica of a cinder block, and That Which Was Left both — , nineteen tiny bronze moving boxes.

Disparities and contradictions of scale vie with formal replications that ostensibly refer, in the former work, to building, and in the latter to reloca- tion, transition, cartage, time. And like the other three artists, her attention to craft provokes a compelling mood of interiority and patient care. The deaths of several elderly citizens, always congenial as they sat by their front doors in the shade of morning. Another cycle of processions, the bearing of saintly efigies through the town, clusters of photographs arriving by email, the same faces, gestures, houses in the near background.

We look at the work here. Who would care to deine what, exactly, is Italian American about it? Or what is Italian, and what American? Or how such things attain dimensionality in the work itself? Though we may never be able to answer such questions with perfect clarity, still we know that some of the answers are here, felt, recognizable, unmistakably so, in the midst of objects in lively conversation with one another. He is the author of Things That Dream: He was editor- in-chief of Artweek, a monthly journal of West Coast contemporary art, from to Anna De Simone, by Cosma Siani.

Case perdute il lavoro editoriale, ; Altre educazioni Crocetti, , Istimi e chiuse Marsilio, , Principio del giorno Garzanti, , Ronda dei conversi Garzanti, I cinque libri sono stati raccolti nel volume Poesie , con la sezione inedita Soste ai margini Garzanti, Nel ha vinto il Premio Viareggio con la raccolta Poesie - Si ricorda il volume Eugenio De Signoribus. Voci per un lessico poetico, a cura di E. The Wayfarer the wayfarer on the inner roads arrives in deepest night at a tent at the end of a rough strip Tristano Dies is forthcoming with Archipelago Books.

Antonio Tabucchi was born in Pisa in and died in Lisbon in Non so se era la poesia della domenica o una sentenza A proposito di elefanti, fra tutti i riti funebri che le creature di questo mondo hanno escogitato, ho sempre ammirato quello degli elefanti, hanno una strana maniera di morire, la conosci? Ti devo confessare una cosa Intendo la vera vita, quella che si vive dentro. So for now, just listen and write. Cianne Fragione, For no lower dies at the end quite like the sunlower does black lace , Medium lithogaphic crayon, Conte crayon, graphite stel, collage and oil on paper Dimensions 41 x Si occupa di riscrittura, traduzione e dialogismo nella let- teratura contemporanea e nel Rinascimento europeo.

He founded Guernica Editions in where he published over authors and books. Since he sold Guernica in , he now works primarily as a literary translator and teaches, when possible, creative writing, script writing, ilm studies, and Italian at various universities. His feature ilm Bruco won best director award and best foreign ilm award at the New York International Independent Film Fes- tival in He has translated a good number of poets from Quebec, France and Switzerland. John Cassavetes 1 May the Muses ind me a home, I who have never had a home.

The sponge I am is bleeding. So many would like to see me hang. Dressed to the hilt as a cowboy. There, the desert; here, the city. No holster, no derringer. My beard unshaven, my hair uncut. The sun, high noon, too hot to bare. No cloud in the sun-setting sky. No truth deep in my pockets. John Cassavetes, Johnny Staccato 1 Che le muse trovino un luogo per me che non ho mai avuto dimora. Queste dee hanno preferenze, non aprono le porte allo Straniero.

Shaw suggerisce di far ridere se si critica il proprio bel paese. La spugna che sono sanguina. Con tutto il fascino del cow-boy. Senza fodero, senza Derringer. Il sole allo zenit. Nessuna nuvola nel cielo rosso. Horse cantering is on the sound track.

Jean-Marc, as a Mohawk, smiles: What are you doing? His ingers to his lips: These metaphors are ridiculous. Better to rhyme than to go crazy. In all countries, prisons galore. All horizons should be conquered, Every conquest abandoned. A native is a well-bred tourist, Each smuggler a screaming teen.

The city sheriff does not want The weak to marry his sisters. We might love, might hate, might have children. No patch of land bestows a right. He for party, he for faith, He for language, he for sect, He for being, he for non-being, He from here, he from elsewhere. He is always afraid. Il galoppo di un cavallo come colonna sonora. Jean-Marc, come un mohawk, mi sorride: Le dita sulla bocca, Mangiare? Lo so, queste metafore fanno ridere. Tante prigioni in ogni paese. Come Garibaldi in Uruguay, si teme di ritrovarsi soli.

Trajectory bumps head with territory. The soil beneath your feet yells for relay. Agriculture brought forth culture. I know, you laugh, my ideas Go against what is shown on TV. More than ive hundred Years of patriotic alchemy To fashion Europe the beautiful. It procures pleasure, it boosts lofty airs To see your brother in the limelight.

Yet you do not build a country With your brother, but with your enemy. How do you marry your opponent? No future with negociation. The funnel widens at its rim, Never at its narrow ring. We walk together, in parallel, Criss-crossing, deviating, going on, Learning from the Other, hand in hand.

Traiettoria si oppone a territorio. Se non vuoi girare in tondo, lascia il camino, salta sul tuo carro. La terra sotto i piedi chiede a gran voce il riposo. Fa piacere, rende ieri — un fratello sale alla ribalta. Un paese non si costruisce con il proprio padre, ma col nemico. Nessun futuro senza commercio. My friend and I, side by side, there Horses; in the distance, the tribes. Handful of dreams, spoonful of fears, Pasta, wine, laughs, questions, pleadings.

Is he or not the Master of land? But ilms by Others on Others.

A gaze rising inside going Outside, a considerate gaze. Of self, by self, against self. Come from self as others. Then imagine the opposite. All of self as told by the Other. Ours is an unmatched constitution, Marvelous, yet quickly dwarfed. Pasta, vino, discussioni, risate, domande. Che Richard diventi Riccardo e che Dick non cambi stoffa.

Dal sedicesimo al ventesimo secolo, da quindici milioni a trentamila anime. In sixteen hundred and sixty-four, The King assassinates in French. In seventh hundred and eighty-three, The King assassinates in English. In eighteen hundred and sixty-seven, The King lies to us in bilingual. The murderer speaks any language. The lawn under our feet comes From rape.

That this occurs in America or Africa, The lesson to be learned is The homework for the kids of the rich. What production To make of it all? What technique to expect from this? To imitate, answers Aristotle. To be able to ind pleasure And of course educate ourselves. Nel milleseicento sessantaquattro il Re assassina in francese.

Regalate lenzuola col vaiolo. Quando lo sterminio non riesce, assimilazione esecutiva. Quale forma, quale materia, quale tecnica? Per imitare, risponde Aristotele, per il piacere, per il sapere. I speak all idioms badly. My folks did not write much, and worked On a narrow and rugged land. Their factories specialized in Peddling emigration en masse. Those who stayed behind made sure to Call their own all assets and stories. Yes, I was taught to love and share Each piece of bread, each glass of wine.

I would offer you some water, But someone poured arsenic in it. We might not like him, still Dante Is hard to tackle on his ield. More than loving it, artists revere This territory where my genes Come from. Tourists pledge their allegiance And repeat it without shame. I admit, I wish I could live there. Then truth knocks me on the chin. Here should be he Who concocted nationalism that will Tear the last century apart.

See a Problem?

Men and women are obsessed by Geography like god and language. Neither soil, nor tongue Barred us from being who we are. Parlo male tutte le lingue. Vengo da un popolo senza scrittura, da una terra ristretta e rigorosa. Gli altri che sono rimasti hanno monopolizzato detti e averi. Non sono il solo a scriverlo, migliaia me lo ripetono senza posa senza imbarazzo. Ammetto che a volte sogno di viverci. La geograia ossessiona uomini e donne, come Dio e il parlare. Che lo si sappia: All locations are there To scout and relinguish.

It hurts, damn hurts, yet no place should Ever become a mirage or cage. What deines self is otherness And life love: This upsurge lifting me to the unknown Has no explanation. A solution for everything. What bore if we could explain being. Nobles have no use for hermits, Despised by right-thinking beggars. A single hand can never clap. Parallel kingdoms belong to No one, to everyone, to nothing.

Hope is the home of the outcast.

• Quirra (Spanish Edition).
• La Châtelaine d’Ascot (French Edition).
• Aus Papier: Eine Kultur- und Wirtschaftsgeschichte der Papier verarbeitenden Industrie in Deutschland (German Edition).
• Madhumalati: An Indian Sufi Romance (Oxford Worlds Classics).
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Statesmen are dealing everywhere. Sweet wine soon turns to vinegar. Swindlers have no time for poetry. Without accent, in solitude, Content, blessed by comradeship, Music inside our body, Our key for the gates of all cities, A promise of trade and respect. I climb on my horse, wave good-bye. A change of sky, a change of stars. Fa molto male, ma nessun posto deve diventare chimera o galera. Una sola mano non applaude. Il loro regno parallelo rinvia a niente, a tutto, a tutti, a ognuno. Monto di nuovo a cavallo e parto. Cambiamento di cielo, cambiamento di stella. He is the coauthor of Sprezzatura: His most recent book is The Book of Firsts: The edu- cation he gave himself with the help of the thousands of volumes in the library of his feckless but studious father, Count Monaldo, resulted in a prodigy of erudition rivaled in the annals of poetry only by John Milton.

Patiently cared for in his last years by his friends, Antonio Ranieri and his sister Paolina, Leopardi died of chronic heart failure in Naples in , two weeks short of his thirty-ninth birthday. At lines, this work is the longest of his lyrics and often considered his poetic testament and masterpiece. Us- ing Vesuvius, which had last erupted violently only twenty years earlier, as the emblem of his pessimistic view of Nature, Leopardi mitigates his stark vision with exhortations to fraternal human cooperation.

I have seen you Beautify with your stalks the lonely regions Bordering on the city That once, long ago, was mistress of mortals, And of whose lost empire Your grave and silent aspect seems to serve As witness and reminder to the traveler. And now I see you here once more, the lover Of mournful sites abandoned by the world, Faithful companion of all ruined grandeur. Qui mira e qui ti specchia, Secol superbo e sciocco, Che il calle insino allora Dal risorto pensier segnato innanti Abbandonasti, e volti addietro i passi, Del ritornar ti vanti, E procedere il chiami.

Di questo mal, che teco Mi ia comune, assai inor mi rido. To these drear slopes Let all those people come who have the habit Of exalting our condition with their praise, And let them see how much Mankind enjoys the care of loving nature. Here they will be able To rightly judge the might of the human race, Whom their cruel nurse, when they fear it least, With slightest motion instantly destroys In part, and with a tremor Almost as light as that, can suddenly Annihilate the rest.

Our current wits, whose dismal luck it is To be your progeny, are quick to latter Your childish babbling, though From time to time they mock you Among themselves. You dream of freedom while you wish to make, Once more, a slave of thought— The only thing that raised us Above barbarism, and which alone Enhances civilization and improves The common lot of nations. Per questo il tergo Vigliaccamente rivolgesti al lume Che il fe palese: For you, The great of soul are those who, Foolish or sly, deceiving self or others, Extol our mortal state above the stars.

A man of humble means and unsound limbs, But with a generous and princely soul, Does not call or think himself A millionaire or hero, And, when with others, shuns a ludicrous show Of sumptuous living Or physical hardihood. Her he calls his enemy, and believing That human society From early times was marshaled and united Against her, as is true, He deems all humans allies of each other, And he embraces them With earnest love, extending— And also expecting—prompt, effective aid In every anguish and successive danger Of the common struggle.

When thoughts like these are known To the populace at large, as once they were, And when the fear that irst Drew human beings together In a common bond against ruthless nature Shall partly be restored By solid knowledge, then an honest, upright Civil society, Marked by justice and mercy, shall be rooted In something more than the conceited fables That form the usual supports of conduct For the man in the street— Insofar as error can serve as support.

And when I ix my eyes upon those lights That seem the merest points But are in truth immense, So that compared with them the earth and sea Are a tiny point—to whom Not only man, but also This globe where man is nothing, Is totally unknown—and when I see Those even more ininitely remote Knots, as it were, of stars, Which seem to us like mists—to whom not only Man and the earth, but the totality Of our stars, ininite in size and number, Including even that golden sun of ours, Are either unknown or must seem to them As they to us: And when I recall Your station here below to which the ground I tread bears witness , though you think yourselves Created lords and endpoints Of the All that is; and recall how often It has pleased you to weave tall tales of how The authors of the universe descended, On your account, to this dark grain of sand Called earth, enjoying pleasant conversations With those like you; and how, refurbishing Ridiculous fantasies, you still insult The truly wise, down to the present age, Which seems to have surpassed All others in knowledge and civility— What feeling, then, unhappy race of mortals, What thought assails my heart concerning you?

Nature has no more regard Or care for the seed of man Than it has for the ants—and if disasters Are rarer in the former, The only cause is this: Mankind is much less fertile in its offspring. And if he sees it drawing close or hears The seething water gurgle in the depths Of the household well, he wakens his children, Wakens his wife in haste, and leeing with As many of their things as they can snatch, Sees from afar their old nest And the tiny patch of ground That was their only shield against starvation Fall prey to the red-hot surge, Which arrives hissing and, inexorable, Pours over both and covers them forever.

After long oblivion, Extinct Pompeii returns to the light of day Like a buried skeleton That either greediness Or piety exposes to the air, And from its empty forum The wanderer contemplates, Between the rows of broken colonnades, The twin-peaked mountain looming in the distance And its smoking summit, Which still threaten the ruins scattered round.

And in the horror of profoundest night, Through the empty theaters, Mutilated temples, and crumbled houses Where nesting bats contrive to hide their young, Advancing somberly Like a lurid torch through vacant palaces, The glow of the funereal lava moves, Showing red through the shadows And dyeing everything from far away. Caggiono i regni intanto, Passan genti e linguaggi: E piegherai Sotto il fascio mortal non renitente Il tuo capo innocente: Meanwhile, kingdoms fall, Peoples and languages die; she does not see. And man keeps boasting that he is eternal.

And you, most pliant broom, That deck these ravaged ields With all the beauty of your fragrant thickets, You, too, will soon succumb to the cruel might Of the conlagration roiling underground, Which, once again returning To its old haunts, will stretch its greedy borders Over your tender shrubs. And you will bow Your guiltless head without the least resistance Beneath that deadly burden. But never till that moment will you bow it, With cowardly and futile supplication Of your future oppressor—nor raise it With preposterous pride up toward the stars Or beyond this desert where You had your birth and home Solely by chance and not by your own choosing.

But you are wiser than man, And less unsound, because you never thought That either you or fate Had rendered that frail kind of yours immortal. She is the author of Donne allo specchio. She has also written extensively on contemporary Spanish American poetry and narrative. She is a poet in her own right and she writes in Spanish and in Italian.

Baret Magarian is Anglo-Armenian. He has published stories in two anthologies of new writing: Two more stories are about to be published in Italian for the online literary magazine El Ghibli and Sagarana. He teaches creative writing at Gonzaga and Syracuse universities in Florence, Italy. He has also recorded a CD of original rock songs.

Please contact him at baretbmagarian hotmail. Si tratta di un gruppo eterogeneo di scrittori provenienti da varie parti del globo, che secondo quanto affermato da H. La produzione poetica di Baret Magarian si inserisce a pieno titolo in questo contesto di voci nuove, intonate da individui che, per natura, pos- sono deinirsi ibridi.

Ad esempio, in Carosello, il connubio tra comuni ornamenti casalinghi e soggetti naturali si risolve nella brama di parlare, di rispolverare e di tirar fuori i ricordi dalla memoria di ognuno di noi: Eppure il poeta si sente smar- rito nel caos quotidiano: In effetti, come scrive il poeta in Miopia, a ognuno spetta occuparsi delle proprie mansioni: Note 1 Si veda H.

rogaes de eremita portuguese edition Manual

Dog Man Dog man go hence and breed among lies The pale yellow moon is unseen by your eyes Dog man the love that lights the universe Is just a fuse for your funeral hearse Dog man woof along without innocence Make your dissonance Dogs barking mad at the moon Running along corridors Making ladies swoon What is it you seek? Why the tearing of limb from limb The all bloody piercing teeth? For a new beginning. An insight, a voice from the past to Undo a severed friendship.

She is tired of rehearsals, she has heard All the operas, there is no longer Novelty in wine, freshness in lowers but still the talk continues, slower now More hesitant, perhaps, And accerelates into lessening, The unlearning, The caesura before and after time. Her research focuses on a spectrum of interrelated topics in late 19th and early 20th century Italy that include Italian verismo, the emergence of Italian women writers and the literature of Italian emigration.

The Feminist Press, The Early Novels of Grazia Deledda. Essays on Grazia De- ledda. Troubador Press, ; Watery Graves. California Italian Studies Journal, vol. Racconto e migrazione in Maria Messina. She has also co-authored a reader Umorismo: Edizioni Farinelli, geared to high school and college students of Italian. Born in the province of Caltanissetta in an era when schooling for young Sicilian women was neither mandated nor encouraged, Mancuso was, for the most part, self-educated. At an early age, she demonstrated the rebellious spirit that would characterize much of her future writing, rejecting traditional paths for women in her staunchly conservative society.

In the intervening years Mancuso contributed frequently to Cordelia and between and published her most important writings, including the collections Resede e ortiche and Bagattelle. Though Sulla condizione della donna borghese in Sicilia appeared far later than many seminal texts on the subject, it addresses similar issues that remained largely unresolved in early twentieth century Sicily. Mancuso understood that knowledge and practical skills would better allow women to determine the course of their lives, yet she was also keenly aware of underlying social, economic and political structures that had long impeded change within Sicily.

After Mancuso dedicated herself wholly to teaching, advocating for fundamental changes in the curricula that would better prepare young women for their futures. She never married and retired from public life in As previously noted, the essay was published in pamphlet form, a medium that favored expressions of social and political dissent through the direct use of provocative language. The current translation seeks to make this important work available in its entirety to a wider audience. I have translated from the original, Sulla condizione della donna Borghese in Sicilia — Appunti e rilessioni, Caltanissetta, Tip.

Appunti e rilessioni Caltanissetta, Tip. Di queste e di tante altre urgenti questioni han parlato: Notes and Relections One hears so much these days about our region — in whose defense many noble champions have risen — that any additional commentary would seem superluous. What these magnanimous individuals — eminent sociologists, statesmen and economists — have discussed, however, are work- ers and landowners; Sicilian maritime and commercial interests; emigration that continues to decimate the island with each passing year; internal colonization and feudal estates — these European des- erts — that are still waiting and have been since Roman times, for an intelligent repartitioning of the land among small rural owners, each of whom has the know how and ability to proit suficiently from his little plot; to set down roots, and to make a living there.

They have addressed these, as well as other pressing questions, but no one, to my knowledge, has touched on the current condition of Sicilian women, those belonging to that class which over the last century has made so many gains that it now can - and must - extend a fraternal hand to the masses who have lagged behind, helping to raise them up. Sicilian women, in spite of all these middle-class gains, have reaped nothing other than the meager comfort of serv- ing a master who is freer, more powerful, and happier to be alive.

They have remained, intellectually, markedly inferior to men; and the awareness of this inferiority has rendered them so meek that their perennial submissiveness and continual sacriicing of their rights and personality seem to them fateful and necessary, ordained by Nature and by God. And the men who control and oppress them, who expect from them the most unjust, absurd sac- riices, act quite often in good faith because they, too, are convinced that a woman is an inferior creature, witless and irresponsible, a kind of cute little animal born only to serve and amuse her master.

It is true that in a few men — that is to say in men of exemplary generosity and integrity — such domestic tyranny assumes the form of tutelary and chivalrous protection that ills the recipient with joy, but in fact deludes her. This behavior has also misled the occasional foreigner who has come here briely to study our customs.

Onde si assiste a questo curioso spettacolo: Sacriicing a woman begins early on, begrudging her access to education so that in her eyes, even the most mediocre and sappy of men appears as a prodigy of wit and knowledge. As if the career of mother and housewife were not one of the most dificult and did not demand a quick, clear, and profoundly cultured intellect as well as a scrupulous practical preparation.

Household inance, ac- counting, hygiene and cooking are never even mentioned. In fact, it would be considered insulting to these cultured young women if someone were to teach them how to cut and sew linens, to mend a worn out dress or to freshen up an old hat. The Normal Schools are reserved for those young women who need to earn a living, almost all of whom choose teaching.

Whence, one witnesses a most curious phenomenon: Se il babbo non guadagna quanto basta per tirar su decorosa- mente i igliuoli, la mamma e le iglie vivon quasi recluse, intera- mente dedicate alle cure della famiglia, facendo anche da guattere, da lustra-scarpe e da lavandaie, non avendo altra distrazione che qualche rara passeggiata fatta in pompa magna, per dar polvere negli occhi ai conoscenti.

And their concerns, we must agree, are not completely unfounded when one considers that even the most well-run Normal School is no substi- tute — when it comes to the education of future teachers — for the civil and moral preparation that a well-off family provides, where the inluences of home-life, example, and domestic traditions form - beginning in childhood -that semi-conscious substratum of virtu- ous mental habits that in time becomes second nature. But let us get back to the most fortunate who, conversely, end up being the worst-off; that is to say those young women who in the home have enough to eat, a warm ire and the bright prospect of becoming mothers and housewives.

If a father does not earn enough to raise his children respectably, the mother and daughters live as virtual recluses, catering exclu- sively to the needs of the family and even acting as kitchen helpers, shoe-shiners and washerwomen, having no other pastime than that rare afternoon stroll, undertaken with pomp and the sole purpose of kicking up a little dust in the eyes of acquaintances.

And in how many families of ofice clerks must daughters serve as providers, toiling with their industrious hands — work done and sold in secret — since on this island, more than elsewhere, prejudices regarding social standing abound, and it would be unseemly for a young woman to work for a salary. In the meantime, these individuals spend their days smoking and their evenings at the club where they often play cards, betting no small sums when measured against their scant earnings, and even allowing themselves the luxury of maintaining, as best as they can, some unfortunate woman — who does not work!

It goes without saying that the hunt for a husband is boldly organized by young girls and their mother. Poor woman, she can think of nothing but the future, fretting at the sight of her daugh- ters as they fade prematurely. They must marry, whatever the cost, because if not, who will support them once their father is gone?

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• La Regenta (Spanish Edition).
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Infatti, se per queste privilegiate il marito non rappresenta. Del resto, siamo giusti: But their daily life is so empty, so devoid of meaning and tedious that for lack of more useful or intellectual tasks, they spend their time endlessly embroidering or doing lacework that is des- tined to embellish, in the most ostentatious fashion possible, the trousseaux they are preparing for their future marriages whose certainty is never in doubt. In fact, if for these privileged few, a husband does not represent.

For what would a mature young woman do, even if she were rich, without the moral support of a man? If this poor victim lacks the courage to ignore all the norms, all the prejudices, and bravely adapt to living without a master, wisely exercising this extraordinary liberty; if she lacks the courage to hold her head high in the face of gossip, refusing to tolerate the base manipula- tion of the most petty and mean-spirited spying; to bear up under the intimidating assault of scornful amazement, criticisms and denigration: She would be better off tying a millstone around her neck and throwing herself into the sea.

A woman alone, especially if she is single, must never leave the house except to attend mass, and even then accompanied at all times by some old hag; nor should she cultivate any friendships except with women of her own station; and her reputation would be absolutely ruined if she ever dared to approach a cafe or — heaven forbid! But let us be honest: And as for these negative virtues, she has been instructed from an early age by the voice and example of her own mother who has seized even the most insigniicant opportunity to inculcate in her these edifying precepts: E le ragioni son varie: In generale, i matrimoni precoci, ancora in uso nel popolo, sono divenuti assai rari nelle altre classi.

And there are vari- ous reasons for this. First, they count on being a little less neglected, a little less dependent since they will now rely on only one person and will enjoy, if nothing else, a certain position of authority with the servants and children. This and the freedom to go out alone - provided their husbands allow it - and to have visitors.

Second, never having dealt with any males other than their father and brothers, they inevitably believe that selishness, arrogance, and all related vices are attributes found only in the men in their fami- lies, more an unfortunate exception than unfailing rule. Finally, even if young girls were not so inclined by nature to self-delusion, all it would take to convince them is the sight of their mothers so anxious to see them settled. In general, early marriages — still prevalent among the poor — have all but disappeared in the other classes.

Many such long engagements end up well as young girls are faithful and constancy is worthy of the highest reward. As far as the young men are concerned, if the lame of love has died out or dimmed considerably or been transformed completely after many years, a sense of honor, a certain generous instinct toward fairness, and the idea of the damage their actions would cause by leaving this no longer youthful and no longer loved young woman — for were she to be abandoned after so many years of betrothal, it would be extremely dificult to ind someone else who would marry her — make breaking this longstanding pact unthinkable.

Can you then imagine this young bride, aged by worry and the torment of such a lengthy wait? Can you picture this woman, who knows nothing of life other than duty and sacriice, and who is now resolved to enjoy, at last, her share of happiness paid for so dearly in advance? The groom, as we know, having completed the heroic act of keep- ing the promise made, becomes.

Infatti, ella crede di essere una massaia esemplare se non sdegna di nettare i pavimenti, di lustrar le posate, di sbrattar la cucina: E per ottenere un tanto felice risultato, quante lampade accese! Ma a questo punto mi par di sentire un coro di proteste e di mordaci insinuazioni.

And for the bride begins that storied life of a mother that she dreamed would be so comfortable, so sweet, so rich with joy, when instead — having arrived in her new home so ignorant and with so many illusions — it is abstruse and thankless. And how demanding these men are towards a poor, inexperi- enced creature who is often better prepared to be a servant than a mistress of a home! In fact, she considers herself to be an exemplary housewife if she embraces scrubbing loors, polishing silverware and tidying up the kitchen, while not having the least idea of how to manage time and money, assign tasks to servants at her disposal and discipline them.

And as far as raising and educating her offspring, she knows less than the cat and hen whose maternal instincts are, at least, free of prejudices and superstitions. The bitter fruit of such deicient preparation for maternal duties is the extraordinarily high infant mortality rate in our towns where couples often bring from six to ten children into the world, yet are unable to keep more than three or four alive until adulthood. And to achieve such a happy outcome, how many candles must be lit! How many vows made to every saint in the calendar! How many charlatans and miracle workers consulted, who between rosaries and litanies apply half a dozen leeches to an anemic child in order to cure him of joint pain!

In well-off families, beyond her duties of managing the house and children — if the husband is not a suspicious tyrant who keeps his wife on a tight allowance and in the dark as to how their com- mon wealth is administered — a woman must also assume respon- sibility for ield operations. She is therefore required to begin — far too late in life and without any reliable guide — agricultural training which, to my mind, every land-owning woman should be introduced to while still a child.

One can only imagine how many mistakes, how many losses and how many disagreements result from these unfairly assigned chores. In the meantime, the poor mother neglects her physical ap- pearance to the point of being downright disgusting, aging before her time, so that one rarely sees women at thirty-ive who are still attractive, even if they were beautiful as young girls.

By now, I can hear a chorus of protests and caustic insinuations. Can all young, middle-class Sicil- ian women really live like this? Ecco, forse dovrei contentarmi, e ritirarmi commossa: Certo che le eccezioni si vedono e si ammirano anche qua. Anche qua si trova qualche donna veramente colta e cosciente, qualche ottimo marito, qualche famiglia esemplare.

Ma sono ec- cezioni: Or is this just an attack of bile that has stagnated in the old liver of a dour fox? Certainly one sees exceptions to be admired even in these parts. Even here one inds the occasional cultured and self-aware woman, excellent husband and exemplary family. But they are the exceptions, while the norm, unfortunately, is comprised of the examples I have cited above. These will sufice for the moment. The trouble is that such remedies can never take hold where the evil is so entrenched, so widespread, that it is believed to be — and here I repeat myself — ordained by Nature and by God.

It is up to us to awaken in the pure souls of our beloved students that highest sense of dignity and of fairness that will never create — as some fear or pretend to fear — crazed rebels and deserters of the domestic hearth, but rather true Women, answer- able to themselves, reluctant to become the domesticated dog of just any master.

Her translations have also appeared in Gradiva and YIP: Her next monograph, provisionally titled Idol Making: Ventriloquizing the Dead in the Italian Renaissance, explores the rhetorical igure of eidolopoeia speaking for the dead and the ideological motivations behind the writing of renaissance Italian ghost stories.

Domenichi was also a tireless compiler of facezie jokes or witty remarks and of the kinds of writings included in his Historia, which is a work in twelve books incorporating anecdotes, biographical sketches, accounts of battles and other historical events, gossip, and the fol- lowing curiosities concerning supernatural occurances or beliefs.

None of these tales is original. Domenichi attributes them to three different sources: While medieval supernatural tales, which like fables or exem- pla, typically conclude with a moral lesson, renaissance tales tend to be open-ended. They invite interpretation and seem to wish to provoke intellectual inquiry into the true nature of even the most outlandish or unbelievable aspects of the paranormal.

Present in many of these anecdotes is a desire to learn the true nature of the spirit, through personal experience, the reliable testimony of others, or outcomes in the physical world that can serve as proof of some- thing otherwise known only through faith. Much is left unresolved by the storyteller, and these translations seek to relect accurately those tensions or seeming inconsistencies that remain present in the originals.

Subsequently, however, the tale insists quite deliberately on the bodily materiality of the dead friend, who will get undressed, climb into bed, attempt to embrace the living man, and leave behind the sensation of an icy-cold bare foot. According to reports, there are various though not necessarily conlicting descriptions of what haunts the place: The one manifestation, which may or may not be related to any of the above noises or signs, is the man of threatening face and black body, carrying a candle.

While it seems he has identiied himself to past percipients, his name is not included in the story. Perhaps unsurprisingly, almost all of these anecdotes fore- ground issues of belief and faith, and the translation of related vocabulary presents its own considerations. By describing a man as having great faith, the storyteller probably wants the reader to understand irst and foremost that the man is very religious. Indeed I believe that through the use of this expression, the storyteller wishes to say two things: The characterization in these cases seems to contain no irony.

I have also tried to avoid terms that have suffered an impov- erishment of register through their use in contemporary English. Nevertheless, in the end my proposal of these translations is not concerned solely with issues of interlingual rendering of the text. These particular anecdotes invite intercul- tural considerations of the perceived nature of the experience of the spirit world in the Italian context versus the American one. Renaissance anecdotes may also offer an opportunity to ponder further diachronic issues of translation concerning perceptions of a realm posited as eternal.

Alessandro Alessandri, nel secondo libro, cap. Alessandro Alessandri in his Pleasant Days 2. This man told Alessandri that some time ago in Rome a very close friend of his was gravely ill, and because of the kind of sick- ness that he had, he was told that, in order to get well, he should go and get some air at the famed baths of Pozzuolo.

It has been found that people who are quite ill many times get well because of the change of air. So these two best friends, along with some faithful companions, left on horseback for Pozzuolo. Having ridden much of the uncomfortable journey, the sick man — near death and with only the weakest of hopes — succumbed to the growing fury of his illness and died in a roadside inn where they had stopped. His friend, who had accompanied him this far, out of duty and love and according to the quality of the place, provided for him to be most honorably buried in the most esteemed place in those parts, in as much as he was able to do so.

And after spending a few days there, the man and his companions settled their accounts and began the journey back toward Rome the way they had come. After their irst day of riding back, evening came on, and they stopped at an inn, and because they were all very tired in both spirit and body, they went immediately to their rooms to rest.

Ly- ing in bed, but still awake, that man reported that suddenly there appeared before him the spirit of his friend who had just died. He was pale and looked lost, and he seemed almost to have that same look about him that he had when he was sick. After staring at him for a time and not trusting his own wits, given the fear he was ex- periencing, he asked the spirit who he was. But the other did not answer him; he just took off his pants and got into the same bed with him, settling in and making as if he wanted to embrace him.

The one who was still alive, now nearly dead with fear, retreated to the far edge of the bed and pushed away the dead man, who nonetheless kept inching closer to him. Quaking with fear, that wretch who was left behind also became gravely ill and was on the verge of dying. He told his companions that while he was contending in bed with the spirit, he happened to touch his bare foot, which was so cold that no ice could equal it.

This might seem like a story too astounding for anyone to be- lieve, if it were not known for certain that around Rome and other places there are some infamous houses that are so scary that no one dares inhabit them, since in them hardly a night can pass without sightings of various illusions of shades and spirits. Almost every night in that house there were recurring illusions and scary images of shades, in addition to the nocturnal disturbances that were heard almost punctually around midnight: Also seen there was the semblance of a man with a squalid candle, a threat- ening face, a black body, and a horrifying look about him, who stated his name and sought help.

So in order that he would be more readily believed, Mr. Alessandri in his Pleasant Days 5. He brought along with him some young, well-educated men, who sought proof and wanted to see with their own eyes if these things were lies. In order not to miss any evidence, the men stayed awake with him all night, so they would all know clearly and without a doubt, nor let their opinions fool him either.

They were awake with their candles lit when, not far from them, a igure appeared. It had a threatening, terrifying appearance and a horrifying expression on its face. All around them arose noise and screams that made them so afraid and terriied that they all were desperately fearful and almost out of their wits.

The whole house resounded with cries and sighs, and in all of the rooms they seemed to hear that disturbing beast. As they went toward it, it would draw back and with a lamenting voice seemed to lee the light. After it had carried on with much noise for most of the night, that whole vision eventually disappeared. Alessandri experienced other things in that house.

Not long after that, he recounts, something happened while he was awake that caused him an even greater scare. It was evening, and he had already locked the door of his room with a key. He got into bed, but was not yet asleep and had a candle lit. He heard that horrible igure begin raging outside of his door and pound hard with its hands on it.

Soon afterward, since that terrible beast was still locked out of the room and this is a thing that is hardly believable to say , it came through the cracks around the door into the room. His servant who slept on a cot at the foot of his bed saw the terrifying igure and immediately became afraid and illed the whole place with cries and screams. It seemed like such an unbe- lievable thing to the master, who noted that the door to the room was still locked.

In the midst of all this, he saw that that terrible igure, which was lying under his bed, reached out its hand and its arm and extinguished the candle that was nearby. Once it was dark, it began with a lamenting voice to overturn the books and everything that was in there. The other men in the house that night were roused by the noise and ran with a light to his room and tried to enter.

In that moment the beast with its hand opened the door to the room that had been locked and led outside. Its appearance was, as they actually saw it, similar to the blackest igure of a man. Alessandro degli Alessandri nel VI libro e cap. He says that a friend of his, who is of extraordinary intelligence and faith, recounted how he intervened in a thing that was too astounding to retell.

It was a thing so farfetched that he accepted it only upon the testimony of many others. The case went as follows. He had been staying in Naples in the house of a very good friend of his. During the night, he heard the voice of a man yelling from the street, asking for help.

So he rushed out with a lighted candle to see what was going on. There he saw a demon — fright- ening and horrible to behold — that sought to grab off the street a certain young man, the one who was yelling and trying to defend himself as best he could. As soon as that poor guy caught sight of the visitor, he ran toward him. This man grabbed his hand and his clothes with all his strength and repeatedly called on God to assist them.

The man struggled without success for some time, then inally with great pains, cast off the demon. He took the young man, who was completely terriied, back to the house, but he still would not permit him to let go of him or his clothes. The young man was so frightened that he lost his mind and did not know where he was, believing that he was still facing the eyes of that demonic igure. At last, returning to his senses, he recounted why this thing took place. He was sure that it came about because he had been living a life of wicked and uncivil ways for a while and scorning God.

He had said nasty things to his father and mother. After they swore at him, he left in a it of anger, with their curse upon him. Alessandro Alessandri in his Pleasant Days 6. In the Abruzzo region there is an ancient city, the name of which is withheld out of respect, since its origins are shadowy, but not for this reason is the city at all ignoble. The ruler of this city was very haughty and miserly toward his citizens, and he used to treat his vassals horribly in word and deed, as if they were his slaves.

Although they willingly did everything he commanded of them, oftentimes he nevertheless insulted them in the worst ways for the lightest of reasons. Now once he happened to have a man — a good man, really, though poor and not much respected — whom he harshly threat- ened with the most terrifying and horrible look. When the lord heard about it, he reacted most seriously: A few days passed. During their usual rounds, after all of the doors and the main gates were closed and locked so that he could not possibly leave, they discovered that no one was in his cell. They searched for him at length, but could not ind him anywhere, nor could they detect any place where he might have been able to escape.

They reported the incident to their lord. He could hardly believe it, and it amazed him even more when three days later, while the same doors were locked and bolted, that prisoner reappeared inside his prison cell without anybody understanding how he did it. The guards questioned him about where and how he had gone and why he appeared so foul and grubby. But it was as if he were mute; he did not answer them at all, being dazed and without all his wits.

He was taken to him right away, and he began to recount the most marvelously unbelievable thing, along with scary happenings that are almost impossible to say or to hear. He said if it is even possible to believe it that he was sent to hell because, no longer able to withstand the misery and suffering of prison, and lacking guidance, succumbing to desperation — though he feared judgment — he called on the devil to help get him out of such a dark prison. Alcuni altri ricoperti di lordissimo fango essere con eterni supplicij crucciati, e le loro condannate sceleraggini essere in sempiterno dolore punite.

Once he agreed to its terms, the demon, with hardly any effort, released him from his shackles. Then he was cast precipitously down into horrible, deep caverns at the bottom of the earth, where he saw everything, particularly the places where evildoers are punished, the darkness, and eternal miseries. He saw ugly, frightening resting places, and kings and great captains submerged in a dark fog in the darkest abyss, where he heard their shrieks and sighs and the constant laments of men and women. He saw popes with their mitres and crosiers, wear- ing vestments adorned with purple, gold, and jewels; and he saw the miserable faces of other men of all sorts and ages and condi- tions, punished in various ways all fallen in the shadowy depths.

Some others covered in the ilthiest mud were tormented, begging incessantly, and their condemned wickedness shall be punished forevermore. He answered that he was having a very rough time of it, treated badly by a cruel lord.

L'ombra dell'ombra

The shade ordered him to make his lord understand that he must not behave in the same way henceforth — not enrage his vassals with such strange and unbearable burdens, as he typically did. Other- wise, he predicted that his lord would occupy an empty place that he indicated was already set up not far from him. And so that the lord would believe his words and could be certain of this promise, the shade told him to remind his ruler of some secret advice and actions that only the two of them he said shared from their days together during the war, things that nobody else knew anything about.

That poor man recited from memory the advice and, not just the general pacts, but also all of the words and promises that each man had made to the other. And when the lord, paying careful attention, heard these things accurately repre- sented, he was astounded beyond measure, and was struck with great fear. Add to this that while the two servants were talking together in hell, he asked the shade, who appeared very well off and sumptu- ously dressed, if those who were richly attired were aflicted by any torment.

The shade responded that they suffered one of the worst punishments: Wishing to prove his words, the man reached out his hand toward the purple garment. Although the shade warned him not to touch it, the man could not help himself and burned the palm of his hand from the burst of heat it gave off. He showed the lord his burned hand where he had touched the smoldering purple. In fact, his hand was almost entirely consumed, covered in raw scabs, as if made by a holy ire. The guards who heard him also reported, according to Ales- sandri, that since he had come back from hell, he behaved as if he were possessed.

He lacked much of his senses of hearing and sight, and he was always deep in thought and rarely spoke. He was barely able to answer those who repeated questions to him. Upon return he had such a dark face and ugly appearance, that though he once was easily recognized by his wife and children, he became so dif- ferent after he returned from hell — so horrible in both his face and his whole body — that they could hardly believe he was the same man.

And seeing him so horribly disigured, his relatives and as- sociates would speak to him with tears in their eyes. He barely had any time to put his things in order and provide for his children and descendents before his death, which followed very quickly. They did not see any houses or villas or any kind of dwellings at all, but just woods, cliffs, and ravines, where the great solitude was in itself enough to frighten them.

Successe a Gregorio quinto. Costui hebbe prima nome Gilberto Francese e fu incantatore. In the distance, though, they seemed to hear a human voice, so they went toward the sound, believing that they might meet up with someone who could help them ind their way again. Suddenly on a nearby knoll they saw the likenesses of three men, terrifying and much larger than normal with long black clothes like scoundrels, very long hair and beards, and vicious faces.

These igures called to the two men with words and gestures, and when the men were about to approach them, they showed themselves to be even larger than was natural. Beyond them, the men also saw another one with the same look, except that he was entirely naked. He jumped around and made a thousand frightening gestures, seeming about to jump on the two travelers and strangle them. Out of fear, the two terriied men led, taking off along a path that was steep and uneven. He was an enchanter. Their pact was that after his death he would belong entirely to the devil, whose tricks had helped him to acquire a dignity so lofty.

When he was still hoping to rule, Gilberto had asked the devil how much time he would live as Pope, and the enemy of humanity answered him ambiguously as is his wont: He was moved to repent and there before all the people, confessing his error, he encouraged them irst to set aside ambition and the tricks of the devil and live good and holy lives. Dicesi, che dopo la sua morte apparve in una solitudine a un certo vescovo, sopra un caval nero. Tenne il Papato due anni e sette mesi.

They say that by the will and providence of God so that the wicked understand that God will pardon them every time they seek pen- ance during their lives , the horses of their own accord went to St. John Lateran, and there his body was buried. It is said that after his death, he appeared on a black horse to a certain bishop who was alone. That bishop asked him why he was riding that black horse, since he was dead. He told him where he had buried a treasure and begged him to go get that money and dispense it in his name to the poor out of love of God.

He said this because the alms that he had given when he could do so were to no avail because that money was gained by stealing.

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Gregory VI held the Papacy two years and seven months. Hav- ing been called a simoniac, a bloodthirsty man, and a murderer by some people, and even by cardinals, he was so offended that he fell gravely ill. On the point of death, he summoned the cardinals to him and upbraided them with sharp words, saying that they were wrong for slandering him out of envy, because what he did was just and holy. If the doors God-willing should open, then you should bury me as beits a Christian. If not, then you will cast my body — damned together with my soul — wherever you please.

So his body was taken inside the church and was held in saintly reverence. Because while he lived he always won in battle, after his death on various occasions he continued to intervene in the victories and triumphs of his soldiers. They continued to erect his pavilion as if he were still alive and arrayed his insignias around him.

Then they would look for a sign. In this way, taking their advice from a dead man, they happily conducted their mili- tary actions. He has published a number of trans- lations and his own poetry through Guernica Editions and other presses. His most recent book is Looters, Photographers, and Thieves: Verdicchio has taught literature, ilm and writing at the University of California, San Diego, since Began her writing career early, publishing a collection of poems, Ginestra in iore, at the age of Modena, Tipograia Modenese, Roma, Cultura sociale, Bologna, Tecnograia emiliana, Una storia di ragazze.

Milano, Del Duca, Mia madre era secca come la canna, mio padre tremava per le terzane. Quando piangevo, la ninna nanna me la cantavano le rane. Risaia amara, risaia ingrate: Terra amata, fatica dura, tu ci portasti a sepoltura. Cantata di una giovane mondina viva Mondine, mondine, cuore della risaia. My mother was as thin as a reed, my father shivered from malaria.

When I cried the frogs sang my lullabies. Bitter rice paddy, thankless paddy: The paddy was that way through the door: The sun shone broken on the dead water enriched the living plant. They cheated me in my salary, they cheated me when counting my hours: Loved land, hard labor, you led us to our burial.

My father fell one morning in the yard, and he did not believe in heaven. And I never had the chance to see the lag that is changing our fortunes. My dear father, my dear mother I am down here for thirty days. Just arrived and I am already tired: Si mangia male, si beve a stento: Eppure, mamma sono tanto contenta di essere andata per questa strada. Mondine, mondine, amore della risaia. Sono, al tramonto, una bestia stracca che si butta dove le tocca. Paglia nuda e itti respire nel camerone con tante zanzare: Mondine, mondine, dolore della risaia.

Essi hanno in terra il paradise, noi camminiamo per bruschi sentieri. Essi son pochi e noi siamo tanti. Non molto giova sentirsi padroni. Mondine, mondine, iore della risaia. Mio caro padre, mia cara madre: Mondine, mondine, onore della risaia. Streaming and Download help. If you like The Cinema Show, you may also like:. Hadal Sherpa by Hadal Sherpa. Too often it's a cacophonous mess. What I heard when I gave H.

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