Life

Matteo, Davide, Gian Domenico, Roberto, Antonio e Massimiliano

Posted in new, poetry by raffack on September 17, 2009

CuoreIn this, the uniform
of your soldier, I rest
as if
it were the cradle
of my father

Ungaretti, Italy

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poet

Posted in new, poetry by raffack on September 15, 2009

The poet arrives there
and returns to the light with his songs
and scatters them
Of this poetry
I have left
that inexhaustible secret
nothing.

Ungaretti

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You too are my river, fateful Tiber

Posted in new by martalorenza on June 19, 2008

Now that night already troubled flows;

Now that insistent,

And like in pain erupted from the stone,

A wail of lambs echoes

Bewildered through terror-riven streets;

That the endless dread of evil,

The worst of evils,

That the dread of evil unforeseen

Hinders soul and footsteps;

That incessant sobs, prolonged death-rattles

Terrify the homes, precarious dens;

Now that night already tortured flows;

That every instant abruptly disappears

Or fear injury so many signs come down to us

Through the ascent of human millennia

To dazzle as almost forms divine;

Now that night already flows distraught;

And I learn the depth of human suffering;

Now that while enslaved

The world drowns in his abysmal pain;

Now that unbearable the bane

Break out among brothers in mortal rage,

Now that my blasphemous lips

Dare say:

“Christ, mournful heart,

Why has your love

Deserted us?”

Now that sheep with lambs

Scatter bewildered and, through streets

Once urban, they despair;

Now that a people suffers

After the tear of emigration,

The mad iniquity of deportation;

Now that in mass graves

With twisted mind

And hands so vile

Man tears from human features

The divine image

And pity shrinks into a petrified cry;

Now that innocence

Demands at least a echo,

And moans in even the most callous heart;

That vain are all other cries;

I see now clearly in the somber night.

I see now in the somber night, I learn,

I know hell yawns open on this earth

To the degree that

Man, the fool, draws back

From the purity of Your passion.

Fa piaga nel Tuo cuore
La somma del dolore
Che va spargendo sulla terra l’uomo;
Il Tuo cuore è la sede appassionata
Dell’amore non vano.

Cristo, pensoso palpito,
Astro incarnato nell’umane tenebre,
Fratello che t’immoli
Perennemente per riedificare
Umanamente l’uomo,
Santo, Santo che soffri,
Maestro e fratello e Dio che ci sai deboli,
Santo, Santo che soffri
Per liberare dalla morte i morti
E sorreggere noi infelici vivi,
D’un pianto solo mio non piango più,
Ecco, Ti chiamo, Santo,
Santo, Santo che soffri.

Giuseppe Ungaretti

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