Dialect Poetry of Southern Italy (Italian Poetry in Translation Book 2)
with a light yearning to undim the blackness of a cross there in the mud. When, will you tell me when I could feel more alone th ...
Mi tàgghiete Mi tàgghiete cc’u fridde u fìhe di nu pinzére ma nun si vìrete u sagne: mbàreche accussì na ‘uce nd’u rasùue d’u ve ...
The Edge of a Thought The edge of a thought cuts me with the cold but you can’t see the blood: maybe that’s how a light turns wh ...
VITO RIVIELLO Vito Riviello was born in Potenza in 1933, and has been living in Frascati since 1972, working in radio broadcasti ...
Lived Here], Rome: Mancosu, 1993 (a refined as well as painful and lucid testimonial on the difficult life of an intellectual in ...
stylistic enrichment, an intersecting of metaphoric-linguistic fragments [...] What at first stands out in Riviello is the appea ...
that I cite in its entirety: My dialect. It was the great philologist Rohlfs who enlightened me on the Gallic- Italian origins o ...
characteristics and acquiring southern ones.” The dialect of the poems presented here, is that of my youth, in the late Forties, ...
has been translated into French, Icelandic and Czek. ...
Cosmo Simme sagliù sova’ la luna pè truvà prete e ciniglia senza cchiù na maraviglia gne ne giamme inta li stelle come fossimo p ...
Cosmos Now we’ve gone up to the moon for no other gems than just some old rocks and piles of dust soon we’ll go among the stars ...
L’età dei saggi Era lu tempe sagge de li mastre, chi de mana e chi de piera fascìa gi ‘nnanze lu munasterio, vulavane rondini e ...
The Time of Sages It was a time of sages, some with their hands and some with their feet kept body and soul together, swifts and ...
Rigoro Gn’era Pestrigne ca giucava pesante e Ndriscina ca s’ncazzava, vulìa sempe rigoro com’a nu diavle ca vole farina. E Pestr ...
spinta a ruzzoloni / ora uno sgambetto maligno, / allorquando l’arbitro perduta / alla fine la pazienza / decretò: Rigore! / Si ...
Penalty Kick It was Pestrigne who played hard and Ndriscina who got mad, wanting a penalty kick the way a devil wants his spoils ...
Migrante Era ranne lu monte quante na mana, te ne si ggiù luntane mana pè mana fin’all’utema mana: La mana de die o di chissacc’ ...
Migrant Once the world spanned the width of a hand, now you’ve gone beyond hand after hand to the ultimate hand: the hand of God ...
Fiamma d’amore Si stata ammore ardente fiamma cà bruscia la raggion vivente. Uocchie, bocca, parole che trasane int’u sanghe, re ...
Flame of Love Love you are still a flame a fire that burns the living brain. Eyes and lips and words that get into the blood, re ...
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