Man walking in the desert (Marinella Albora) .
Ungaretti writes:
' ' I was born at the edge of the desert and the mirage of the desert is the first sense of my poetry ... ..
It 's the desert the first stimulus, the initial stimulus, the stimulus that movement followed by the poem that can also express a different reality, a reality fertile, but still leaving from this nothing, nothing from this and from this feeling of this as not based on anything that the illusions that lead to perdition. ''
The twelve poems of the Milan period
' ' I was born at the edge of the desert and the mirage of the desert is the first sense of my poetry ... ..
It 's the desert the first stimulus, the initial stimulus, the stimulus that movement followed by the poem that can also express a different reality, a reality fertile, but still leaving from this nothing, nothing from this and from this feeling of this as not based on anything that the illusions that lead to perdition. ''
The twelve poems of the Milan period
published in the journal gradually Lacerba''futurist''close the experimental phase of his work more closely and predict a long, successful poetic adventure.
''Agony,''
''Agony,''
in nine verses that encloses the burning desert and its mirages also contains a plan of life and poetry ....
die like the larks on the looming thirsty
O such as quail
past the bushes in the early sea
because of flying
no longer want to live But
moan like a goldfinch blinded
'' May Night''
die like the larks on the looming thirsty
O such as quail
past the bushes in the early sea
because of flying
no longer want to live But
moan like a goldfinch blinded
'' May Night''
where it emerges as a dense city in the heart of childhood ....
The sky puts on the part of the minarets
garlands of lights
'' Silence'' ,
where the memory of his native city Alexandria lost for ever and ever found by poetry, becomes the expression of a nostalgic return to a city suspended a radiant sunshine that the poet has left a summer evening, seeing it vanish like lights in a last embrace.
a city I know that every day was filled with the sun and everything is
kidnapped
at the time I left one evening lasted
In the heart of the cicadas Limio
From
painted ship di bianco
ho visto
la mia città sparire
lasciando
un poco
un abbraccio di lumi nell’aria torbida
sospesi.
0 comments:
Post a Comment