Ungaretti leave the French capital in 1914 and moved to Italy where hound dramatic events: World War knocking at the door.
Anarchism innate and rebellious spirit make him a vigorous interventionist believes that war, that war is inevitable ...
In Milan, where he will live for some time at a landlady from parts of the Monumental Cemetery where to live and teach French to spend entire nights walk with the painter Carlo Carrà .
discovers the existence and consistency of the''fog''that cancels the scenery and backdrop to the twelve poems published in Milan, the journal gradually Futurist ''''Lacerba founded by John Pa pines and Ardengo Soft nel 1913, in seguito riunite nella sezione dell’ Allegria intitolata Ultime
Dopo tanta
nebbia
a una
a una
si svelano
le stelle.
Respiro
il fresco
che mi lascia
il colore
del cielo
la vicinanza del cimitero richiama alla sua mente Moammed Sceab, l’amico arabo
anche le tombe sono scomparse
spazio nero infinito calato
from this balcony to the cemetery
I came to find my partner
Arab who has killed the other night
draws back the days
graves flattened in the dark green of the last
dark green in the dark
first clear
The memory of Alexandria that the verses of the Levant, one of the more imbued with autobiographical lyrics of this early period are crossed and nearly hurt by visions and feelings experienced during the sea voyage from Egypt to the ' Italy ....
line
vaporous
dies away to circle the sky
spikes heels peaks
hands and clarinet flourishes
shrill and the sea is restless
Heron
trembles sweet like a pigeon
Aft emigrants tabby dance
A bow is just a young
On Saturday evening at this
Jews
there
lead
away their dead
funnel snail
hesitation
alleys of light water
Confused as I hear the noise of breast
within the shadow of
sleep
Alexandria, the desert the landscapes of Africa's poems Latest cram and it is natural for someone like Ungaretti is deeply rooted in those places ....
''I was born at the edge of the desert and the mirage of the desert and the mirage of the desert is the first sense of my poetry ... ..
''
(The paintings of Carlo Carra)
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