- See a Problem?
- (PDF) Journal of Italian Translation, Vol. 1, No. 2, Fall | Luigi Bonaffini - badufyjuhi.cf
- Sorry we still under construction...
In testimonium veritatis : der Bronzegisant als Totenabbild im italienischen Quattrocento. Berlin : Deutscher Kunstverlag, . Buenos Aires : Edhasa, septiembre de Shanghai : Shanghai ren min chu ban she, Valencia : Generalitat Valenciana, V epokhu peremen : nashi leningradskie khudozhniki. Sankt-Peterburg : Aleteiia, Dreams of universal flowering. Petersburg : Palace Editions, Roma : Il cigno GG edizioni, . Tempo largo. Berlin : Deutscher Kunstverlag, c Porten : Maja Lisa Engelhardt : enogtredive kirkeudsmykninger. Beijing : Zhongguo lin ye chu ban she, Barcelona : Universitat de Barcelona Edicions, .
La Pieve dei Santi Cassiano e Ippolito. Ospedaletto Pisa : Pacini editore, . Arthur Cravan : maintenant?. Epistolario del Archivo Madrazo en el Museo del Prado. Cecilia de Madrazo : luz y memoria de Mariano Fortuny. Landscapes after Ruskin : redefining the sublime. Husum : Verlag der Kunst, c Milano : Dellupi arte, . Bielefeld : Transcript, c Basel short stories : von Erasmus bis Iris von Roten. Salzburg : Verlag Anton Pustet, c Berlin : Hatje Cantz, c Coming home.
German engravings, etchings, and woodcuts, ca. Amsterdam : M. Hertzberger, -. Roosendall, Netherlands : Koninklijke van Poll in cooperation with the Rijksprentenkabinet, Rijksmuseum, Hangzhou : Zhongguo mei shu xue yuan chu ban she, Peter Hujar : Speed of Life. New York, NY : Aperture, Gary Hume : mum. New York : D. Amici pittori : da Guttuso a Morlotti. Milano : Archinto, . Amsterdam : Schilt Publishing, c Bielefeld : Kerber, . Kanagawa-ken Yokohama-shi : Kanazawa Bunko, Heisei 30 . Paul Klee : construction of mystery. Jean Fouquet : the Melun Diptych.
Loneliness : a journey through Icelandic abandoned places. Irina Aleksandrovna. Weimar : Jonas Verlag, c Sankt-Peterburg : Kolo, Fluids : a happening by Allan Kaprow. Berlin : Verbrecher Verlag, c Myths of the marble. Berlin : Sternberg Press, c Alkmaar : Stedelijk Museum Alkmaar, c Adolph Tidemands Darstellungen des Volkslebens.
Berlin : Logos Verlag, c Kerteminde : Oestfynns Museer, Time codes. Lindenberg i. Cultivating citizens : the regional work of art in the New Deal era. Oakland, California : University of California Press, . Sophie Kuijken. Usi e riusi di alcuni immobili storici in Toscana. Ariccia RM : Aracne editrice int. Rabat : Kulte Editions, The mystery of the Albany mummies.
Beijing : Zhongguo jian zhu gong ye chu ban she, Paris : Centre Pompidou, . Makli under the Sammas. Karachi : Heritage Foundation of Pakistan, . Meri society kay log. Karachi : Heritage Foundation of Pakistan, The standard book of noun-verb exhibition grammar. Eindhoven : Onomatopee, c Sankt-Peterburg : Levsha. Sankt-Peterburg, Zhongguo yi shu yan jiu yuan yi shu jia xi lie.
Beijing : Wen hua yi shu chu ban she, Granada : Universidad de Granada, Miriam Syowia Kyambi. Shanghai : Shanghai san lian shu dian, Heinz Mack : Rhythmus, Licht und Farbe : Februar — April , Samuelis Baumgarte Galerie. Bielefeld : Samuelis Baumgarte Galerie, .
See a Problem?
La Venezia dei Grubacs. Immaginare il Mediterraneo : architettura, arti, fotografia. Napoli : Artstudiopaparo, . Gerolamo Giovenone : un capolavoro ritrovato. Cinisello Balsamo : Silvana Editoriale, Turnhout, Belgium : Brepols, Man Ray. Heidelberg : Kehrer Verlag, c Esporre la memoria : le immagini in movimento nel museo contemporaneo. Udine : Forum, . Alberto Manfredi : la collezione Giacomo Riva. Parma : Grafiche Step editrice, .
Martin Mannig : folkfuturism. Bielefeld : Kerber Verlag, c Perugia : ABA Press, . Call for justice : art and law in the low countries, Robert Mars : futurelics : past is present. Sorolla and fashion. Roma : Il cigno GG edizioni, -. Rosario, Argentina : Ivan Rosado, . Mary Cassatt : an American impressionist in Paris. Georges Mathieu : Toni Dove : embodied machines.
A cultivating journey : the Herman H. Pretty gentlemen : macaroni men and the eighteenth-century fashion world. New Haven : Yale University Press, . Innsbruck : HaymonVerlag, c Arte a Parma nel Novecento : fra cronaca e storia. Parma : MUP, . Prato : Edizione Medicea Firenze, . Past Forward : contemporary Art from Emirates.
Washington, D. Black Mountain conversations. Dejardin, eds. David Milne : modern painting. London : Philip Wilson Publishers Ltd. Kamakura jidai. The mobility of modernism : art and criticism in s Latin America. Austin : University of Texas Press, . The Paston treasure : microcosm of the known world. Mexican costumbrismo : race, society, and identity in nineteenth-century art. Justin Mortimer : hoax. Swindon : Anomie Publishing, Le antiche vie medievali : da Corciano a Magione, Piegaro e Umbertide. Perugia — Italy : Francesco Tozzuolo editore, . Art and the mind — Ernst H. Gombrich : mit dem Steckenpferd unterwegs.
Paris : Hermann, . Esch-sur-Alzette : Editions Schortgen, c Picasso et les Ballets russes : entre Italie et Espagne : voyages imaginaires. Quadrifonia : Chiostro dei Serviti. Odd Nerdrum : making painting great again. Roedovre : Heerup Museum, . Santiago, Chile : Ocho Libros Editores, Not to be fed, but to be famous : Sophie Nys.
Aarhus : Aarhus Universitetsforlag, . Concrete matters. Ponte el cuerpo : acuerpamientos en la obra de Javier Codesal. Summer days, Staten Island. Bologna, Italy : Damiani, . Heidelberg : Verlag Regionalkultur, c Strange oscillations and vibrations of sympathy.
Valentina Palazzari. Mantova : Universitas studiorum, Eutopia : pratiche artistiche intorno a luoghi alimentari che non esistono… ancora. Mantova : Il rio, . Eduardo Paolozzi : lots of pictures — lots of fun. Trent Parke, the black rose. Vicken Parsons : on reflection. Madrid : Ivorypress, . Beate Passow : monkey business.
La chiesa di San Giacomo a Pesaro. Pesaro : Metauro, . Genova : Sagep editori, . Arte y mito : los dioses del Museo del Prado. Jean-Jacques de Boissieu : : les dessins dans les collections publiques. Before the fall : German and Austrian art of the s. Munich : Prestel Verlag, . Architetti Artisti Aloa : catalogo mostra collettiva. Roma : Dei Merangoli editrice, novembre Lomonosova : Een kabinet vol kleur : de collectie schildersmaterialen van de Amsterdamse verfhandelaar Michiel Hafkenscheid Nijmegen : Uitgeverij Vantilt, .
Unfamiliar familiarities : outside views on Switzerland. Clermont-Ferrand : Presses universitaires Blaise Pascal, Black dolls : la collection Deborah Neff. Sharrock, eds. Bangkok, Thailand : River Books, Memphis : Dixon Gallery and Gardens, . Michelangelo Pistoletto. Plessi Fenix DNA. Venezia : Lineadacqua edizioni, . Die Kunst der Liebe : Meisterwerke aus Jahren. Herman de Vries : the return of beauty. Milano : Mousse Publishing, Differenti gradi di percezione. Roma : Gangemi editore SpA international, . L, William, Proto-skin set. Picasso : voyages imaginaires. Richard Prince : super group.
London : The National Portrait Gallery . The country house library. New Haven : Yale University Press, Edward Quinn : mein Freund Picasso. Leeuwarden : Stichting Staten en Stinzen Sara Greenberger Rafferty : gloves off. Bologna : Bononia University Press, dicembre Neo Rauch : Dromos : painting Berlin : Hatje Cantz Verlag, c Lotteries, art markets, and visual culture in the Low Countries, 15thth centuries. Leiden ; Boston : Brill, . El Greco comes to America : the discovery of a modern old master. Lara Favaretto.
Lili Reynaud-Dewar : Teeth gums machines future society. Milano : Skira, Alien invader super baby, synchromaterialism VI. Alfred Kubin und Siegfried von Vegesack : Briefwechsel. Viechtach : Edition Lichtung, Een schatkamer voor pelgrims : de Cenakelkerk van de Heilig Landstichting. Nijmegen : Valkhof Pers, . Ecrits sobre art. Barcelona : Edicions de la Universitat de Barcelona, .
Firecrackers : female photographers now. Ugo Rondinone : the world just makes me laugh. Milan : Mousse Publishing, . Pescara : Edizioni ZiP, . Siracusa, Italia : LetteraVentidue, dicembre The Pont-Aven school : cradle of the modern sensibility. Milan, Italy : 5 Continents, . Cambridge, Mass. Additional volume: vyp. Contraption : rediscovering California Jewish artists. Il restauro del Ponte di Rialto a Venezia. Sergio Sarri : opere, Jakob in Straubing : Festschrift zur Innenrenovierung. Straubing : Katholische Kirchenstiftung St.
Jakob, Josef Scharl : zwischen den Zeiten. Schatz : Monografie und Werkverzeichnis. Frankfurt am Main : Stroemfeld, . Martin Schnur : Imagina. Kirchner, Nolde und die Anderen : Magdalena M. The history of Venetian Renaissance sculpture, ca. Simbach am Inn : Verlagsbuchhandlung Anton Pfeiler jun. Lanzhou : Gansu jiao yu chu ban she, Les Levine : transmedia Oakville, Ontario : Oakville Galleries, . Beijing : Wen wu chu ban she, Siqueiros de la A a la Z. Beijing Shi : Xue yuan chu ban she, Carolein Smit : Works. Die Baugeschichte der salischen Abteikirche in Hersfeld. Emblemas moralizadas.
Kupferstich-Kabinett, author. Indian paintings : the collection of the Dresden Kupferstich-Kabinett. Svetlana Stepanovna and A. Das Wiener Aquarell. Peyton, eds. Arts of Korea : histories, challenges, and perspectives. Gainesville : University of Florida Press, . Wolfgang Stiller. A new era : Scottish modern art, Amsterdam : Van Gogh Museum, c Princeton : Princeton University Press, . Mechelen ondergronds : kelders en andere krochten. Soest : Uitgeverij Boekscout, c Warisan Kita our heritage. Singapore : The Malay Heritage Foundation, . Chengdu : Ba Shu shu she, Second sight : the paradox of vision in contemporary art.
Luci del Nord : Impressionismo in Normandia. Bard, Aosta Italia : Forte di Bard editore, . Hans Thoma : Wanderer zwischen den Welten. Oberhausen : Athena, . Impressionismo e avanguardie : capolavori dal Philadelphia museum of art. Francisco Toledo. Cinisello Balsamo : Silvana Picasso, Picabia, Ernst : new perspectives. London : Archetype Publications, Milan : Electa, .
Leonardo plagiario?. Lancino : Carabba, . Dieter Kraemer : Retrospektive. Corpus vasorum antiquorum. Berlin [etc. Additional volumes: bd. La pittura nella Sardegna del Trecento. Perugia : Morlacchi editore U. Buenos Aires : KBB, Palazzo Torlonia. Hilde Van de Walle : related forms. Oostkamp : Stichting Kunstboek Surf tribe.
Warhol vs Gartel : Hyp pop. Milano : Prearo Editore, . Vultus misericordiae : il venerato crocifisso di Besana. Arcidosso GR : Effigi, Beyond given knowledge : investigation, quest and exploration in modernism and the avant-gardes. Berlin ; Boston : De Gruyter, . Giuseppe Veneziano : mash-up. The Barber Institute of Fine Arts. Soesterberg : Uitgeverij Aspekt, . La escultura en vidrio. Mosaici antichi in Italia : regione quarta : pavimenti musivi e cementizi di Villa Adriana.
Pisa : Istituti Editoriali e poligrafici internazionali, . Niederjahna : Donatus Verlag, c Thomas Gainsborough : the modern landscape. Hamburg : Hamburger Kunsthalle ; Munich : Hirmer, . Berlin : Hirnkost, Promessa del dorico : case, archetipi e analogie fra Oriente e Occidente. Vorotnikova, eds. Moskva : Buksmart, Ferrara : Fondazione Ferrara arte, . De Ploeg : avant-garde in Groningen Berlin : Gebr. Mann Verlag, c Beijing : Ke xue chu ban she, Ribe Kunstmuseum. Ribe : Ribe Kunstmuseum, Die protestantischen Hinterglasbilder des Stadtmuseums Kaufbeuren.
Thalhofen : Bauer-Verlag, Experimental Beijing : gender and globalization in Chinese contemporary art. Durham : Duke University Press, Sehnsucht nach dem himmlischen Jerusalem : das Emblemprogramm der Stettener Schlosskapelle Stuttgart : W. Kohlhammer Verlag, Kaufbeuren : Kunsthaus Kaufbeuren, c Munich : Hirmer Verlag, .
Venezia : Marsilio, febbraio Furnes, Belgium : Hannibal Publishing, c The art of the Yellow Springs : understanding Chinese tombs. London : Reaktion Books Ltd. On Chinese art : cases and concepts. Chicago : Art Media Resources, -. Boris Zaborov : lo spazio del silenzio. Henk Peeters, Jan Schoonhoven : da zero a infinito. Milano : Dep Art, . Leonard Cohen : a crack in everything. Tianjin Shi : Tianjin ren min mei shu chu ban she, Beijing : Ren min ri bao chu ban she, Zhengzhou Shi : Zhongzhou gu ji chu ban she, Hangzhou : Zhejiang ren min mei shu chu ban she, Beijing Shi : Wen wu chu ban she, Hamilton, NJ : Grounds for Sculpture, .
Historical dictionary of Baroque art and architecture. Vadim Valentinovich , ed. Permanent collection : there are always alternate possibilities. Aspen, C. Abbate, Francesco and Antonello Ricco, eds. Foggia : Claudio Grenzi editore, . Paris : Onestar Press, . Cult of the machine : precisionism and American art. Archeologia, arte e storia in Piemonte : notizie inedite : studi in onore di Bruno Signorelli. Divine bodies : sacred imagery in Asian art.
Divina creatura : la donna e la moda nelle arti del secondo Ottocento. Capannoli e le sue chiese : anni di storia. Ai Weiwei. Desde y para la memoria. Morelia, Mich. Roma : Gangemi Editore, Viena : Der Verlag Holzhausen, Herbert Albrecht. Hohenems : Bucher, Lisette , author. Lodewijk Schelfhout : Nederlands eerste kubist. Zwolle : Waanders Uitgevers, . Melle en het anarchisme : catalogus bij de tentoonstelling : het engagement van Melle, visionair schilder. From East to West : the quest for Chinese export porcelain with western themes, Lisboa : Scribe, Capriccio e natura : arte nelle Marche del secondo Cinquecento : percorsi di rinascita.
Varia nummorum. I Mola da Coldrerio tra dissenso e accademia nella Roma barocca : ricerche tra architettura, pittura e disegno. Lusingare la vista : il colore e la magnificenza a Roma tra tardo Rinascimento e Barocco. Paris : Klincksieck, . Teramo : Palumbi, . Paris, France : Onestar Press, . Marshall, and Andrew Yip, eds. The legacies of Bernard Smith : essays on Australian art, history and cultural politics.
All the things I lost in the flood : essays on pictures, language, and code. New York : Rizzoli Electa, Milano : Electa, Ludovica Carbotta : the shotgun, the invisible rail, and the spectacled tyrant. Roma : Nero, Orazio Antonaci, architetto, urbanista, designer, artista : inventario interventi edilizia residenziale pubblica Melfi Italia : Libria, novembre Zwolle : Waanders Uitgevers, c London art worlds : mobile, contingent, and ephemeral networks, Rasheed Araeen. Boundless peaks : ink pantings by Minol Araki.
Bologna : Bononia University Press, . Mario Arlati : incomplete flags. Maria Austria, fotografe. The mercantile effect : on art and exchange in the Islamicate world during the 17th and 18th centuries. London : Gingko Library, Milan : Officina Libraria, . Crises and new beginnings : art in Slovenia Ljubljana : Moderna Galerija, Colouring the Caribbean : race and the art of Agostino Brunias.
- Asking God for the Gifts He Wants to Give You;
- Der Mann, der seinen Namen änderte (German Edition).
- corporealities dancing knowledge culture and power Manual.
- Cahier de photographe 2012: Les cents photos de lannée dun utopiste indépendant (French Edition)?
Manchester : Manchester University Press, The Monarch of the Glen : Landseer. Mantova : Maurizio Corraini, . Nose peak. Bologna : Ante Quem, Christian Balzano : resilienza. Kerouac beat painting. Mirko Baricchi : derive. La Spezia : Brain, . Art, commerce and colonialism Artemisia Gentileschi in a changing light.
London ; Turnhout : Harvey Miller Publishers, . Roberto Barni : le cose vogliono esistere. Arte y magia negra ; El origen del mundo y la modernidad profanadora. Madrid : Editorial Manuscritos, junio de Paolo De Poli artigiano, imprenditore, designer. Padova : Il poligrafo, . Gianfranco Meggiato : il giardino delle muse silenti. Cinisello Balsamo Milano : Silvana, Marina De Marchi, eds. Pistoia : Giorgio Tesi editrice, .
Corpus laminae : Belgische koperen graf- en gedenkplaten Brugge : Uitgeverij van de Wiele, c Torino : Allemandi, . Tiepolo segreto. Milano, Italia : Officina Libraria, Bologna : Fondantico Antonio Beni : Han Bennink. Roma : GB editoriA, . Istanbul : Galerist ; Berlin : Revolver Publishing, c Torino : Prinp, Carl Blechen : Innenansichten eines Genies. Berlin : Lukas Verlag, The Gozo Cathedral : its history and treasures. Victoria : The Cozo Cathedral chapter, Villanova di Guidonia RM : Aletti editore, novembre Bilder der Seele : Auguste Rodins Zeichnungen.
Hildesheim : Georg Olms Verlag, Costellazioni infinite : International Festival of Light Art. Fisciano SA : Gutenberg edizioni, . Caterina Arcuri : transforma. Baronissi SA : Gutenberg edizioni, . Gehouwen, gesneden, geschonken : middeleeuwse beelden uit de collectie Schoufour-Martin. Rotterdam : Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen . Sironi svelato : il restauro del murale della Sapienza.
Roma : Campisano editore, . Photography in India : from archives to contemporary practice. Duchamps Readymade. Pittrici della rivoluzione : le allieve di Jacques-Louis David. Bologna : Pendragon, . Aldo Borgonzoni : catalogo generale delle opere pittoriche. Salzburg : Residenz Verlag, c Rixt Amarins , author. Document Nederland. Loving art is art : contemporary artists from Lithuania. Y-Paraguay : contemporary artists from Paraguay. The desire of the medium. Arnhem : ArtEZ Press, c November in Brandenburg an der Havel. Worms : Wernersche Verlagsgesellschaft, c Botero dialogue avec Picasso.
Reuniting the masters : European drawings from West Coast collections. Trappole di luce. Milano : Poleschi arte, . Gilbert Bretterbauer : Rekonfiguration. Editor, c Nok : African sculpture in archaeological context. Madrid : Antonio Machado Libros, . The matter of photography in the Americas. New York : Bloomsbury Visual Arts, Mario Sironi e le arti povere : assenso e dissenso. Leiden : Uitgeverij De Muze, John Lockwood Kipling : arts and crafts in the Punjab and London.
Artists working from life.
London : Royal Academy of Arts , . Abbas Akhavan. Berlin : Distanz, . Made in America : the thousand lights of New York. Frozen in Time : photographs. New York : Glitterati Incorporated, Roma : Carocci editore, novembre Settia, eds. Borghi nuovi, castelli e chiese nel Piemonte medievale : studi in onore di Angelo Marzi. Torino : Nuova Trauben, . Thumbs down. Il polittico Costabili : prospettive incrociate. Il tempietto di Bramante nel monastero di San Pietro in Montorio. Roma : Edizioni Quasar, Caravaggio i musici. Venezia : Marsilio Editori, . Spazi sacri che danno da pensare.
Melfi Potenza : Libria, Quay Brothers : the black drawings : Philadelphia Pennsylvania Mario Carotenuto : autoritratto degli anni Settanta. The poetry of nature : Edo paintings from the Fishbein-Bender collection. The value of taste : auction prices and the evolution of taste in Dutch and Flemish Golden Age painting, Riti, pratiche e immagini della morte in Puglia : la chiesa e la confraternita di S. Arcidosso Gr : Effigi editore, novembre Fontanellato Parma : Ricci, Walter Resentera : le figure sui muri.
Caselle di Sommacampagna : Cierre edizioni, Ismael Smith : la belleza y los monstruos. Paintings I : percorsi nella pittura contemporanea da una collezione privata. Milano : Scalpendi editore, novembre Johannes Hispanus. Loris Cecchini : tavolo parallelo alla terra, terra parallela al tavolo. Psychology and the arts : perceptions and perspectives. Savona : Centro ligure per la storia della ceramica, Memoria e tutela : il patrimonio artistico del territorio di Monteveglio.
Bologna : Bononia University Press, ottobre La loma del orto. Chen Zhen. Eugenio Chicano : paisajes andaluces. Murphy, eds. The Tang Shipwreck : art and exchange in the 9th century. Singapore : Asian Civilisations Museum, . Apparteneva - si vede - a quella categoria di persone, molto numerose, che non immaginano una carriera brillante se non preceduta da una laurea. Thrilled and exhilarated by the revelations of the mysteries of procreation and of his hidden relationship to Bernardo, Ernesto had raced home to recount both these exciting bits of news to his mother.
On hearing the second, she fainted and fell to the ground. He could have throttled his blackbird singing away obliviously at the window. It seemed in fact, to be singing louder and better than ever before. A dose of bromide eventually set things right.
Nevertheless, every time his mother pressed him go to the barber two, perhaps three times a year the boy would get back at her with the old tale, though by then he, too, knew that it was complete and utter rubbish. And every time she would get insulted and angry and threaten to punish him by telling his Uncle Giovanni. Bernardo was a heavy, fairly elderly man with completely white hair and a kind face.
He always welcomed Ernesto warmly, had even lent him money once which the boy spent at a new bakery that everyone in town was raving about, and which he repaid punctually from the weekly allowance he got from his uncle. Bernardo had waited on him since childhood. And he suffered his irst disappoint- ment when Ernesto left school to take a job. It seems that Bernardo belonged to that very large group of people who cannot imagine a brilliant career not preceded by an academic degree.
Although he never expressed his disappointment to Ernesto, the boy sensed it. Bernardo volle servirlo di persona. Il barbiere gli chiese, come prima cosa, notizie della sua salute sapeva che Ernesto era stato ammalato e ci teneva a fargli sapere che lo sapeva , di quella della signora Celestina e della vecchissima zia. Pareva se ne vantasse. Gli disse che lo zio gli aveva parlato di lui, lamentandosi che fosse sempre socialista.
I socialisti diceva lo zio - sono in odio a tutti, e non sono destinati a far carriera nel mondo. Ernesto, che conosceva Bernardo da sempre, la preferiva. Ma no son iscritto al par- tito; son ancora tropo giovine. Bernardo rise. Conosceva abbastanza Ernesto per dare troppo peso alle sue parole. Il ragazzo e Bernardo lo sapeva non odiava lo zio tutore non odiava ancora nessuno : ne aveva solo paura. Sentiva che questi non lo amava almeno eccessivamente e, soprat- tutto, non lo approvava. Forse sospettava nel nipote qualcosa di strano e di proibito.
Ed uno dei tratti del carattere di Ernesto era il bisogno di essere approvato ed amato. He walked resolutely into the shop. Bernardo wanted to take care of him personally. Once seated in the revolv- ing chair and completely at the mercy of his unwitting torturer, Ernesto resigned himself to having his hair cut as a necessity, however unpleasant, of the good life.
All he said to Bernardo was not to cut his hair too short, and answered all his questions cheerfully. The irst thing the barber inquired about was his health he knew that Ernesto had been ill and wanted him to know that he knew it. After that he asked after the health of Signora Celeste and of his very old Aunt. Then he told him that just the previous day Signor Giovanni had been in to have his beard trimmed. He seemed to take pride in this. He added that his uncle had spoken about Ernesto, lamenting that he was still a socialist.
Socialists, his uncle had said, were hated by everyone and would never amount to anything in the world. Sometimes he used it, sometimes the more formal lei. He knew Ernesto well enough not to take him seriously. He was just afraid of him. Is that true? Ernesto si attendeva ad un elogio: avrebbe dato non so cosa per riceverlo. Ma sapeva egli stesso di non meritarlo. Il violino era stato un suo capriccio, nel quale poi si era ostinato. Lo zio poi odiava in linea generale i violini e, in modo particolare, quello del nipote. Play- ing the violin had begun as one of his whims, but one in which he subsequently persisted.
He paid a teacher from the weekly allowance that he received from his Uncle, and from the small sums he extorted with wheedling and promises from his old aunt. He said that there was only one great violinist in the world: Paganini. The derision with which his Uncle delivered these words stung the boy more deeply than a slap in the face. The only person who was not completely disapproving of the experiment was his old aunt. But his aunt, in addition to being old, was a little deaf.
And the only work that signora Celeste let her do at home was to wash the radicchio which they ate in large amounts. Despite his meager progress, the boy persisted in studying his loved-and-hated violin. Adesso desiderava che Bernardo si spicciasse. Il vecchio barbiere non mostrava invece nessuna fretta: si sarebbe detto che provasse piacere a prolungare al massimo quello che, per Ernesto, era un supplizio.
Sentiva al collo, dove il barbiere aveva fatto passare il rasoio, una spiacevole sensazione di freddo. Il suo movimento istintivo sarebbe stato di alzarsi e scappare; ma, timidezza a parte, avrebbe dovuto dare delle spiegazioni; e, o non le trovava, o non poteva esibirle. Era, oltre a tutto, il suo mestiere: se non ci fossero state barbe, Bernardo le avrebbe inventate.
Nessuno si accorse che aveva le lacrime agli occhi. It was a miracle that, chatterbox that he was, he had never said a word about it to the man. He seemed to enjoy dragging out the process, which was a torture to Ernesto. Anyway, , when he was young, he was for Garibaldi. Besides, he was almost done. Ernesto barely glanced at it, then shut his eyes so as not to see himself looking worse, so he thought, than before.
His neck, which the barber had shaved, felt unpleasantly chilled. His intuitive reaction would have been to get up and get out of there. Then suddenly, he thought of the man; saw him, off in the distance, looking as if he were weeping. He is never named in the book. Sperava - pur sapendo che la sua speranza era vana - che sua madre avrebbe saputo confortarlo. E lo disse col tuono con cui avrebbe annunciata una grande sventura che gli fosse occorsa.
Bernardo ha fatto bene a tagliartela. Fa vedere Poi le friggeva in quello stesso olio. It was, after all, his profession. If there were no such things as beards, he would have invented them. Ernesto was inally free and got up from the chair. No one noticed the tears in his eyes. Bernardo smiling contentedly and folding his towel, watched Ernesto cross the street as he led home.
He was hoping, even as he knew it was in vain, that his mother would comfort him. Let me see. When he had been about thirteen or fourteen years old, he would have liked to be taken for a grown man, and had badgered his mother to buy him a vest like one a boy in his class had. Now, however, reading newspapers, he was pleased if a youth of his age was still referred to as a boy.
Auntie and I are hungry. Fino ai tredici anni ne riceveva una; poi due, e della stessa grandezza di prima. Il ragazzo ne avrebbe mangiate tre, anche quattro: ma quel giorno non sentiva quasi il gusto dei cibi. Davano tutti gli insegnamenti del caso, ed abbondavano in particolari. Tutti gli altri ed Ernesto si collocava fra gli altri dovevano crepare. Egli si sapeva incapace di dire di no, specialmente ad una donna.
They left specks of blood in the oil, and she would then fry them in the same oil. They were in fact, meat balls, though lattened, but they must have contained a secret ingredient. Until he was thirteen years old, Ernesto had been served only one, later, he got a second, as large as the irst.
He could eat three, perhaps even four, but that day he could barely taste any of his food. He ate in silence, then immediately withdrew to his room, the only one in the house with a sloping roof, where he threw himself down on the brass bed to brood on his unhappiness. The blackbird, accustomed to being released and to having its bath at that time of day, began hopping restlessly from perch to perch, and calling to Ernesto to open the cage.
With a sense of regret he recalled all the friends who had already done so; and had bragged about it to him. They had told him all they knew on the subject and were lavish with details. Even a cousin his own age well, not exactly, he was three months older than Ernesto had already done it - more than once, if you could believe him. Life, in that sense, began the day a boy had a woman for the irst time. However, there had been a time when he was convinced that he would die of tuberculosis before he got to be twenty. Everyone else and Er- nesto counted himself among those others was going to die.
The obsession lasted two or three months. Then he stopped thinking about it. E se non gli fosse piaciuta? Ora una prostituta non poteva - ed egli lo sapeva - amarlo; se andava con lui era per i soldi: gli avrebbe preferito un vecchio, il signor Wilder, o un altro come lui, dal quale poteva ricevere, o almeno sperare di ricevere, una buona mancia. Ma il destino doveva essergli, anche questa volta, favorevole. Abitava al primo piano di una vecchia casa, nel quartiere dove si aprivano i postriboli: un conoscente gli aveva anche detto la sua tariffa costava anche lei un iorino ; ma Ernesto non sapeva come trovare la porta alla quale avrebbe dovuto battere.
Se avesse battuto ad una porta sbagliata, cosa avrebbe detto a chi gli fosse venuto ad aprire? And after that, his friendship with the man. He had another problem too. He knew he was incapable of saying no, especially to a woman. Consequently, if he went to a brothel he would have to say yes to the irst woman offered him. How would he have the nerve to aflict a poor, unfortunate woman The Worker had taught him that prostitutes were poor unfortunate victims of bourgeois prejudice with the shame of a refusal? Ernesto had not yet reached the age of aesthetic sensibility he would reach it shortly - but by other ways and other means.
His preferences were dictated solely by his sensuality at a given moment. For example, it never occurred to him to wonder whether the man was handsome or ugly. He had responded to him for reasons that had nothing to do with aesthetics. He wanted to be loved and the man loved him. He knew that. If she went with him, it was for the money. This matter of mak- ing a choice or rather of not making one was a major dificulty rooted in his character.
But fate was once again to favor him. There was a woman in the old city who practiced the profession on her own perhaps secretly, meaning without police authorization. Ernesto had seen her often at her window. She lived on the irst loor of an old building in a part of town where brothels were permitted. A friend had told him her price a lorin. If he knocked at the wrong door, what would he say to whoever opened it?
He imagined - who knows why- an old woman holding a broom, who, on hearing what he wanted, would chase him into the street shrieking insults and humiliating him in front of everybody.
(PDF) Journal of Italian Translation, Vol. 1, No. 2, Fall | Luigi Bonaffini - badufyjuhi.cf
Worse, his uncle, who, fearing solitary vices in his nephew, was giving him weekly gifts for just this purpose though alas, without actually stating his reason , owned shops on a street not far from the brothels. What if his uncle happened to pass by and witness the scene? Sapeva che dalle prostitute si andava solo di sera e di nascosto; ma non si sentiva di rimandare: preferiva affrontare il tutto per tutto, subito, in pieno giorno. Era anche un giorno di grande sole.
A pensarci su, avrebbe perso il poco coraggio che gli rimaneva. La donna era alla inestra; e vide subito il suo cenno. Era un odore di biancheria nuova, appena tagliata; lo stesso che gli piaceva tanto nella casa della sua balia.
- Nuclear Medicine Technology: Review Questions for the Board Examinations!
- Ahora o nunca: La historia continúa en la Gran Manzana (Aquí y ahora nº 2) (Spanish Edition);
- ⏩ Download Notting Hill, Level 3, Penguin Readers -.
- Monroe (Women Who Kill Book 1)!
- Henry W. Blairs Campaign to Reform America: From the Civil War to the U.S. Senate?
- Index of /page_1.
Questa, che aveva il marito ammalato, e doveva guadagnare la vita per lui e per lei, cuciva a macchina tutti i pomeriggi capi di biancheria diversi, che la mattina vendeva, o cercava di vendere, in Piazza del Ponterosso. Ernesto had no doubt she would immediately start crying, maybe faint, or even die right there with the shame of having such a son.
Yes or no? Wanting to experience the feelings that Bernardo had inadvertently activated in him with that ill timed, premature shave, Ernesto decided to surrender to fate. He would walk down the street where the woman lived. He would walk by three times. If one of those times she was at the window he would signal to her and go up.
His afternoon was essentially free. So he had plenty of time. He wanted to experi- ence everything head on, immediately, in broad daylight. It was even a bright sunny day. If he stopped to think about it, he would lose what little courage he had. The woman was at the window and immediately noticed his nod. His heart beating in his throat, Ernesto climbed the steps and found her waiting at her door.
In fact, he had the feeling that things might work out better for him this way. What he did notice was a light growth of hair over her upper lip. Is she going to sprout a mustache? The thought amused and cheered him. The nursemaid, who had a sick husband and had to earn a living for both of them, would sit at her sewing machine every afternoon making various articles of linen which she sold, or attempted to sell, mornings in Piazza del Pon- terosso. But she would chase him off immediately. Forse era anche una buona donna, con repressi istinti materni. Ernesto fece un gesto vago, come per dire che la cosa gli era indifferente.
La donna non se le tolse. Under Franz Joseph2 , no one could stop her from walking around with linen under her arm. This woman too, was sewing linen, but she was doing it for herself and for her clients. She was particular about cleanliness. Perhaps she, too, was a kind woman with suppressed maternal instincts. If so, this strange customer who had dropped in on her in broad daylight and who acted less mature than he looked, would seem to be particularly fashioned to draw them out. He was neither undress- ing nor approaching her. And she looked more closely at Ernesto.
He was a good looking boy, so different from the men who regularly visited her at night. She sensed that on that afternoon, fate had bestowed a strange and unexpected gift upon her. You just get yourself undressed. Ernesto did so too. Ernesto gestured vaguely, as if it was matter of indifference to him. The woman did not remove them. But one glance - and the discovery pleased her - told her her diagnosis had been incorrect.
Ma Ernesto era fatto diversamente. La sua forza e la sua debolezza stavano nel mostrarsi, in dove possibile, quale veramente era. Il ragazzo amava, come tutti i suoi coetanei, le lodi; ma, a differenza di questi, doveva sentire di meritarle. Come ti te ciami? Ma Ernesto non era un cliente comune. E fece seguire al nome il cognome. La donna sorrise. Evidentemente, la donna era una slovena del Territorio. It will be easier, if this is really your irst time.
Why, in fact, should he have? Youngsters generally try to pass themselves off as sophisticated rather than inexperienced. And the harder they pretend to be the former, the more likely they are to be the latter. His strength and his weakness lay in trying as much as possible to present himself as he really was. Like all boys his age he liked praise, but unlike most others, he had to feel he merited it. There were times his relationship with the man was a torment to him.
It would occur to him that if people whom he knew, who were repelled by such behavior and used insulting terms for it, were to learn what he had done, many who now liked him would no longer do so. Meanwhile, to arouse him, the woman had begun caressing him. Completely nude, he seemed to her not more than a child. And as if he were a child, her hand stroked his buttocks. They were soft and tender and her hand lingered there for a moment.
But that moment was enough for Ernesto to recall the man. And his image there, in that place, was frightening.
Sorry we still under construction...
I like you better this way. The woman smiled. E - come desid- erava andarsene pensare in pace a quanto gli era accaduto - mise la mano in tasca, per prendere fuori il denaro e pagare la donna. Era il primo del mese e il primo giorno della settimana: Ernesto era ricco. Dette alla donna che costava solo un iorino tutto, o quasi, quello che possedeva, compreso quanto aveva dimenticato di dare a Bernardo. Voleva rendergli una parte del denaro; ma Ernesto non volle.
Ricordite che me ciamo Tanda, e sta atento a no sbagliar de porta. Era quasi commossa,e volentieri gli avrebbe dato un bacio. La matassa doveva attendere molti anni per incominciare appena a dipanarla; la sete invece che, per ragioni isiologiche, afligge tutti gli uomini dopo il coito con una prostituta poteva sod- disfarla subito. And falling back at the edge of the bed, she drew the boy towards her. It seemed to him that he had experienced it before, even before his birth. He felt like a man who, after a long, adventurous journey, returns home where he knows and recognizes everything: the way the furniture is set out, the way the closets are arranged, that is, every little thing.
Ernesto, no longer worried about himself, inquired about it. And, as he was anxious to get away to think quietly about what he had just experienced , he reached into his pocket for money. It was the irst of the month, the irst of the week. He was rich. It was what only the old or impotent paid. She offered to give him some money back, but he refused.
Just remember my name is Tanda, and be careful not to go to the wrong door. Non gli restava quindi che bere ad una fontana pubblica. Ma la loro vista lo rese anche accorto di essere in ritardo. Per affrettarlo, decise di prendere, coi pochi centesimi che gli rimanevano, il tram. Lo avrebbe poi messo in conto al parsimonioso signor Wilder. Molte donne, la maggior parte giovani, alcune ancora bambine, attendevano il loro turno.
Two problems were troubling Ernesto as he set off to do his errands for Signor Wilder. He was unable to undo the twisted tangle of his thoughts, and he was very thirsty. It would be many years before he could even begin to undo the tangle. However, the thirst which, for physiological reasons, aflicts all men after coitus with a prostitute could be satisied immediately.
So there was nothing else to do, but drink at a public fountain. He found one in an outlying area, a highly populated outskirt of the city, which had been growing in every direction. Ancient hovels that Ernesto knew from childhood, and which he thought would surely last forever, were being razed to make way for new buildings. The chimney of a nearby factory was emitting thick smoke that permeated the air. Workers, walking double ile, lunch boxes in hand, were already leaving their building.
But seeing them reminded him that he was late. Suddenly, he felt a strange nostalgia for the ofice, even for Signor Wilder. To get back sooner, he decided he would use the remainder of his money to take the tram back and bill it to miserly Signor Wilder. The fountain rose in the middle of a tree-lined ield between a barracks and a church, both painted yellow.
Many women, most of them young, some still merely girls, were waiting their turn. Despite his desperate thirst, Ernesto waited patiently in line. Ernesto si giudicava male. Gli pareva fosse pas- sato non so quanto tempo da quando era stato per la prima volta da una donna Gli pareva fosse passato non so quanto tempo da quando era stato per la prima volta da una donna He had to bend his body almost in half to reach the spout. The movement and resulting position of his body roused an intrusive memory.
At just that moment, he heard laughter all around him. They know everything, he thought. They know about the man, they know where I just came from. He stopped drinking before his thirst was satisied and blushing, began walking away. They continued staring at Ernesto, who, with his eyes to the ground, was trying to escape the wretched fountain as quickly as he could.
Ernesto was misjudging himself badly. There was nothing about his appearance to induce laughter. Nothing effeminate. But Ernesto interpreted their subdued laughter very differently. It seemed to Ernesto as if an incalculable amount of time had passed since his irst experience with a woman.
And an entire epoch separated him from the time he had begun his strange relationship with the laborer, who - he was at least sure about this - had in his own way loved him. And perhaps if Ernesto had wanted him to would still have loved him. And only one month had gone by. His volumes of poetry are Frammenti di tormenti prima parte Longo: , Frammenti di tormenti seconda parte Lietocolle: , Alfabestiario Lietocolle: , and the bilingual Alphabetabestiario Fomite: with English translations by Blos- som S.
Kirschenbaum and illustrations by Delia Robinson. Transla- tions of his poetry have appeared in English and Catalan, and are being prepared in German. He translated into Italian poems of W. He co-translated from German two autobiographical novels of Johannes Hoesle and is a regular contributor to magazines and journals in both Italy and the U.
His other publications are books and articles on literary criticism and language pedagogy. Giovanni Raboni is arguably one of the greatest Italian poets of the second half of the twentieth century. Born in Milan of an afluent middleclass family he gave up a career in law to become a journalist, translator and literary critic. He was awarded all the most prestigious Italian poetry prizes, including the Viareggio and the Librex Montale.
The poems presented here were published posthumously in as part of Ultimi versi with an afterword in verse by his wife and poet Patrizia Valduga. They are now included in the Meridiano Mondadori Opera poetica with the rest of his poetry, a selection of his essays, and works for the theatre. Or will it be the case of going further back, much further back, for example to the entry of the lodge or to when the conscience of the country started to model itself after the programs of channel ive?
Canzone del danno e della beffa Stillicidio di delitti, terribile: si distruggono vite, si distruggono posti di lavoro, si distrugge la giustizia, il decoro della convivenza civile. Until, I say to myself, God preserves him and his squads in double-breasted suits or blazers leave him be, we will always know whom to vote against. Song of Harm and Mockery Unrelenting low of crimes, terrible: lives are destroyed, jobs are destroyed, justice is destroyed, the decorum of civil society.
Never so low, so similar not only saying it, even thinking it hurts to the heinous caricatures that have always sullied and disigured us In other places as well, I know, they sanctify crime, in other places as well they celebrate rites of privilege and impunity transformed into doctrine of the state. But only to us, soaked already in ancient sins and pardons, to us irst agents and later victims of the plague of the century, was allotted, with the harm, the mockery, a farce in addition to ill fate.
Of course it is. How could we not be obsessed with the continuous reiteration of the most obscene stereotypes, the lood of falsity and arrogance, the supreme pornography of cunning made object of worship, of bullying made valor, of impudence made icon? Let it be said once and for all, my friends: to run risks is not only the credibility of the nation, or the uncertain, doubtful essence we call democracy, here in play is the history that remains, that little that is left from here to death. He is currently working on a memoir of his Italian childhood in the Bronx.
Bickersteth, and Dorothy Sayers. At age twenty I thus embarked on a foolhardy venture to avoid the most egregious faults of these most established terza rima versions. Six years later, under the guidance of Professor Daniel Donno, I submitted my annotated terza rima translation of the irst nine cantos of the Inferno as my thesis requirement for an MA in English at Queens College. I continued my Dante studies while pursuing a doctorate in English at Yale and produced three more cantos for a total of twelve. Then, after ten years of work on my version, my day-job responsibilities compelled me to declare an end to the project in , though I have continued to revise my entire text every few years since then.
In the meantime several terza rima versions of the Inferno have appeared, most notably that of Michael Palma, and the num- ber of other Dante translations has proliferated at an astonishing rate. La gente che per li sepolcri giace potrebbesi veder? Che fai? Within this graveyard Epicurus lies With all his followers in heresy, Who say the spirit with the body dies. The question that you ask shall presently Be answered here, nor shall you be forbidden That wish of yours which you conceal from me. Your language clearly makes you out to be A native of that noble fatherland Which I, perhaps, have harmed too grievously.
Is he not living then? It seems that—if I hear aright—you see, Beforehand, things that time will bring to light, But with the present, you fare differently. Therefore, you see, all things will be concealed From us, and all our knowledge will be dead When the door of the future shall be sealed. And that if I was mute and did not tell What he would know, it was because my thought Was on that problem you have solved so well.
Here Frederick and the Cardinal are found— And of the rest, I make you no reply. I turned around And walked back toward that poet of long ago, Relecting on those words of hostile sound. Lujan Lawrence J. Lujan lives in Belmont, California, twenty-ive miles south of San Francisco. He has a doctorate in English from the University of California at Berkeley, and for forty-seven years has taught composition and literature, humanities, speech and ilm, history and political science, philosophy, and religious studies at various colleges in the Bay Area; he is currently at Notre Dame de Namur University.
Growing up in the Mis- sion, a working-class albeit richly multicultural neighborhood in San Francisco, I had heard only vaguely of Dante before then, but I was powerfully impressed. While in high school I read through the whole of the Commedia on my own, and wrote a careful summary. In graduate school at U. Jones, in which we went through the Commedia canto by canto.
Since then, in classes and in school tours to Italy, I have taught parts of the Commedia many times. I now have neither the energy nor the expertise to translate the entire poem, but there are many individual passages, especially in the Inferno, that I have pondered over often and deeply enough to have some sense of how they ought to go in English. The previ- ous translations that I have found most helpful have been those by John D. Sinclair and Charles S. Rather, I have written my versions in blank verse.
Ah me, how hard a thing it is to tell Of that wood, savage and harsh and stubborn, The very thought of which renews my fear! So bitter is it, death is scarcely more; But to treat of the good that I found there, I will tell of the other things I saw. I cannot rightly say how I got there, I was so full of sleep at the moment When I irst abandoned the path of truth. These words I beheld inscribed in color Obscure above a gateway; so I said. We have come to the place where you shall see The sorrowful people I told you of, Who have lost the good of the intellect.
Here sighs, lamentations, and loud wailings Reverberated through the starless air So that at irst it made me weep to hear. Fama di loro il mondo esser non lassa; Misericordia e giustizia li sdegna: Non ragioniam di lor, ma guarda e passa. They are commingled with that wicked choir Of angels who were neither rebellious Nor faithful to God, but were for themselves.
Heaven drove them forth, not to be less fair, Nor yet will the depth of hell receive them, Lest the sinners have glory over them. They have no hope that they will ever die, And this blind life of theirs is so abject, That they then envy every other lot. The world permits no report of them to be; Mercy and justice both disdain them: Let us not talk of them, but look and pass. Do not hope ever to see the heavens; I come to lead you to the other shore, To eternal darkness, to ire and ice.
And you there, who are still a living soul, Depart from those who are already dead. La bufera infernal, che mai non resta, Mena li spirti con la sua rapina: Voltando e percotendo li molesta. The infernal blizzard, which never rests, Sweeps the spirits onward before its blast: Whirling and striking, it torments them still. When they arrive in front of the ruin, There are shrieks, wailings, and lamentations; They blaspheme against the divine power. I understood that unto such torment Are condemned all the sinners of the lesh, Who subject their reason to appetite.
And as their wings bear the starlings along In the cold season in a wide, dense lock, So does that wind drive the evil spirits. Now here, now there, now downward, now upward, It takes them; no hope ever comforts them, Not of repose, or even of less pain. She was so corrupted by sensual vice That she gave all lust licence in her laws To take away the blame she had incurred. She is Semiramis, of whom we read That she succeeded Ninus, being his wife: She held that land where now the Sultan rules. See Helen, for whose sake so many years Of ill passed, and see the great Achilles, Who battled at the last with love, and lost.
After I had listened to my teacher Name the ladies and knights of antique times, Pity came on, and I was bewildered. Of what it pleases you to hear and speak We two will hear and we will speak with you, While the wind, as it is now, is silent. The land where I was born lies on the shore Where the Po, with all its attendant streams, Descends to seek its inal resting place.
Love, quickly kindled in the gentle heart, Seized this one for the beauty of my form, Torn from me; the manner offends me still. Amor condusse noi ad una morte: Caina attende chi vita ci spense. Noi leggiavamo un giorno per diletto Di Lancialotto come amor lo strinse: Soli eravamo e sanza alcun sospetto. Love led us to one death: Caina awaits The one who extinguished our life. But tell me, at the time of your sweet sighs, How and by what signs did love allow you To recognize your dubious desires?
But if you have so great a wish to know The irst root of our love, I shall tell you Even as one who weeps in the telling. We were reading one day, for our pleasure, Of Lancelot, and of how love seized him: We were alone and with no suspicion. Many times our eyes were brought together By that reading, and our faces turned pale; But just one point it was that mastered us. When we were reading how the longed-for smile Was kissed by so great a lover, this one Here, who shall nevermore be divided From me, kissed me on the mouth, all trembling. A Galeotto was the book, and he Who wrote it: that day we read no further.
La tua loquela ti fa manifesto Di quella nobil patria natio Alla qual forse fui troppo molesto. See there Farinata who has risen: From the waist upward you will see him all. Non iere li occhi suoi il dolce lome? Does not the sweet light of day strike his eyes? But not ifty times will the face of the Lady who rules here be relit before You learn for yourself how much that art weighs. And, so you may return some time to the Sweet world, tell me why your people are so Pitiless against mine in all their laws? But I was alone, there where everyone Agreed to do away with your Florence, The one who defended her openly.
It seems, if I have heard correctly, that Thou seest beforehand what time brings with it, But with the present have a different mode. When they are near or present, our vision Wholly fails; unless others bring us word, We can know nothing of your human state. And let him know that, if I was silent Before, it is because I was already Thinking of the doubt thou hast solved for me. My mind, in a scornful it of temper, Thinking by dying to escape from scorn, Made me, the just, unjust against myself. By the new roots of this my tree I swear To you that never did I break faith with My lord, who was so worthy of honor.
And if one of you returns to the world, Let him comfort my memory, which still Lies prostrate from the blow envy gave it. I was standing on the bridge, risen up To see, so if I had not grasped a rock I would have fallen down without a push. Who is in that ire so divided at The top that it seems to rise from the pyre Where Eteocles lay with his brother?
They lament within it the craft by which Deidamia, dead, still mourns Achilles, And there they pay for the Palladium. Leave it to me to speak to them, for I Understand what you desire; and perhaps, Since they were Greeks, they might disdain your words. I saw the both shores, as far as Spain, as Far as Morocco, and Sardinia And the other islands the sea bathes round. Considerate la vostra semenza: Fatti non foste a viver come bruti, Ma per seguir virtute e canoscenza. Consider well the seed from which you spring: You were not made to live your lives like brutes, But to follow after virtue and knowledge.
That night already showed all the strange stars Of the other pole, and our own so low They did not rise above the ocean loor. Full ive times the light had been rekindled And as often quenched underneath the moon, Since we had entered on the deep passage, When there appeared to us a mountain, dark By distance, and it seemed of such a height As I had never seen the like before.
We were gladdened, but soon turned to weeping; For from the new land a whirlwind arose, And struck upon the forepart of the ship. Three times it whirled round with all the waters: The fourth time it lifted the stern aloft And plunged the prow down, as Another willed, Until the sea closed again over us.
He holds a Ph. His publications embrace a number of different writing modes and include volumes of poetry, prose, translations and critical texts. His most recent collection of poetry, Disturbi del sistema binario , is the text from which the following poems were extracted and translated. Non conoscevo il poeta, il titolo mi interessava, i versi in copertina mi piacevano, cominciai a leggerlo.
Poi uguale per tutto il volume. Lui annuisce, io mi giro dentro al letto. Salted water, neither salty nor sweet, indeed both sweet and salty. So it goes when the rivers of war and peace feed into the same marsh, a stagnation of life infested by death, an effervescence of death polluted by life. He nods, I turn in my bed. Esci prima che puoi, e non aver igli tuoi.
Disteso accanto a loro, li ascolto cinguettare. Un bosco al buio. Posano sui miei rami il peso caldo e vivo della voce, un peso-volo trepidante. Questo mostro, col mio stesso nome si chiama. It deepens like a coastal shelf. Philip Larkin If all that grows and burns goes to embers, then to love is to glimpse the stake. Think of summer, how it begins by shedding its blood in a smiling hemorrhaging of light.
I lie beside them and listen to their chatter. A darkened wood. Resting on my branches is the warm living weight of their warbling, an anxious weight-light. This monster, it bears my very same name. That black mass rising from the depths is not in the painting but in the observer. I am the artist who carries into the work the taint of his gaze, signing thereby the blank check of his own sin.
I was trying to explain the concept of deceit in moral terms while falling victim to a visual paradox. I had ixed my focus on Ethics, yet the problem was one of Optics. It would seem that they double it, too, but in reality they split it in half. A very close friend of Manzoni, who admired him highly, he wrote exclusively in Milanese. The greatness of his poetic exuberance, however, transcends the boundaries of its local idiom. Like Gio- achino Belli, Porta depicted the life of a city; but, unlike his Roman counterpart, he insisted on fewer aspects of the society he chastised.
He is at his best in several anticlerical satires, of which The Selec- tion of the Chaplain is the most irresistible and unforgettable. The Congress of Vienna with its sad implications found in this poet its most powerful voice. Lila, all goitre and all fur and fat, is a Maltese old female dog that, after the Marchioness, in the Travasa home happens to be the most respected beast, so that it is a crime, that all should fear, to make her bark or treat her as a peer.
Poor Don Galdin knows well about it, who was at the altar called a ilthy swine for having, as he raised the holy host, stepped on her tender tail, and, as he reached the sacristy, was on the spot dismissed and, chasuble laid down, lew quick as mist. Semm in piazza, per Dio, o indove semm? So the great morning inally has come, and now the palace is one sounding stir: priests in the courtyard, priests along the stairs, priests in the kitchen, priests throughout the house.
Corsica, country, city, every region it represented with a crow or pigeon. The great reverberation of the roofs, the din of all the murmurings below, the pattering of feet and iron hooves— I mean the solid boots of all these priests— make such a noise around, and such a schism, they seem to crucify Romanticism. Lilla is barking, Marchioness is screaming, both of them wakened by the great confusion. By God! And those of you who do not wish to hear may leave the house at once and disappear. Those who serve must patient be: so say it when she cares to come to one.
And if she makes you wait two hours and twice, offer to God, amen, your sacriice. Don Rocco what a shame! There she endures the lowly, humble crowd, and even takes the farmer by the arm: the worst that there can happen to Her Grace is to hear someone joking in her face. Behave therefore or go. This is the moment: a loud-ringing bell makes all them know that Donna Paola, Her Excellency, has left her bed at last, and is about to grant them audience. While the quick butler to each corner races the priests with their saliva clean their faces. Great Marchioness Travasa, look!
But Lilla, who is sitting next to her, all-covered with the newest scarf from France, as soon as she hears those twelve vulgar feet, jumps to her paws and drags along the room her new-made mantle, barking loud and wide with all the breath that her three goitres hide. Don Malacchia, an ill-tempered priest, seeing his greetings frozen in his mouth, loses his calmness, raises now his voice, and, making his resentment manifest, lifts up his foot to strike the howling pest.
Luckily, little Lilla, thanks to that wonderful savoir faire that is her gift, has smartly shunned the blow on her derriere by squatting down and thrusting up her tail: luckily, yes, or nobody can know what that wild bear might do at such a blow. Thus on the tonsure of ive candidates the post of chaplain, look! But, oh, another din, another roar causes the quick dismissal of two more. Instead, in this occasion I can see that you have never known civility. Let this example warn the others too, if they have yet some basic tact to learn. And this is it. Quiet, Lillin! Who will our chaplain be?
Of those three Priests, our Don Ventura is to one who needs this good employment most. Rigid and astounded, there he is, afraid to compromise his inal luck. Eventually, however, everyone is told the mystery of the affair— that Don Ventura, hidden underneath his cassock, had a pound of sausage skin, wrapped with the pages of Madame Bibin, whose author is a ham called Gherardin. For ifteen years he worked for General Foods Corporation, rising to the rank of vice president before resigning in to pursue a full-time literary career.
His three collections of essays are Can Poetry Matter? Wallace Stevens was born in Reading, Pennsyl- vania. He took a law degree and made a career in the insurance industry, ultimately becoming a vice president of the Hartford Accident and Indemnity Company. His first book of poems, Harmonium from which all of our selections are drawn , was published in , when he was forty-four.
Its imaginative daring, elegant sensibility, and often gaudy phrasing marked it as one of the most unusual irst books ever published by an American poet. It remained his only published volume until his late ifties, after which he issued frequent collections of new verse—Ideas of Order , The Man with the Blue Guitar , Parts of a World , Transport to Summer , and The Auroras of Autumn —as well as The Necessary Angel , essays. He is universally regarded as one of the greatest of American poets. How many voices have escaped you until now, the venting furnace, the loorboards underfoot, the steady accusations of the clock numbering the minutes no one will mark.
The terrible clarity this moment brings, the useless insight, the unbroken dark. Sunday Night in Santa Rosa The carnival is over. The high tents, the palaces of light, are folded lat and trucked away. A three-time loser yanks the Wheel of Fortune off the wall. Mice pick through the garbage by the popcorn stand. A drunken giant falls asleep beside the juggler, and the Dog-Faced Boy sneaks off to join the Serpent Lady for the night. Wind sweeps ticket stubs along the walk. The Dead Man loads his cofin on a truck.
Ma ora devi ascoltare le cose che possiedi, tutto quello per cui hai lavorato negli anni passati, il mormorio dei beni, delle cose in rovina, i pezzi in movimento che stanno per disfarsi, e torcendoti tra le lenzuola ricordare tutti i volti che non sei mai riuscito ad amare. Le alte tende, i palazzi di luce, vengono riavvolti a terra e messi nei camion. Un tipo tre volte perdente strappa la Ruota della Fortuna dalla parete. I topi sbirciano tra la spazzatura presso la bancarella del popcorn. Il vento spazza via i biglietti sul marciapiede.
Il Morto carica la sua bara su un camion. It is a list of words to memorize or to forget—of amo, amas, amat, the conjugations of a dead tongue in which the inal sentence has been spoken. This is the liturgy of rain, falling on mountain, ield, and ocean— indifferent, anonymous, complete— of water ininitesimally slow, sifting through rock, pooling in darkness, gathering in springs, then rising without our agency, only to dissolve in mist or cloud or dew.
This is a prayer to unbelief, to candles guttering and darkness undivided, to incense drifting into emptiness. It is the smile of a stone Madonna and the silent fury of the consecrated wine, a benediction on the death of a young god, brave and beautiful, rotting on a tree.
This is a litany to earth and ashes, to the dust of roads and vacant rooms, to the ine silt circling in a shaft of sun, settling indifferently on books and beds. Words The world does not need words. It articulates itself in sunlight, leaves, and shadows. The stones on the path are no less real for lying uncatalogued and uncounted.
The luent leaves speak only the dialect of pure being. The kiss is still fully itself though no words were spoken. And one word transforms it into something less or other— illicit, chaste, perfunctory, conjugal, covert. Even calling it a kiss betrays the luster of hands glancing the skin or gripping a shoulder, the slow arching of neck or knee, the silent touching of tongues.
Yet the stones remain less real to those who cannot name them, or read the mute syllables graven in silica. To see a red stone is less than seeing it as jasper— metamorphic quartz, cousin to the lint the Kiowa carved as arrowheads. To name is to know and remember. The sunlight needs no praise piercing the rainclouds, painting the rocks and leaves with light, then dissolving each lucent droplet back into the clouds that engendered it. The daylight needs no praise, and so we praise it always— greater than ourselves and all the airy words we summon.
Parole Il mondo non ha bisogno di parole. Si articola in luce, foglie e ombre. E una parola lo trasforma in qualcosa di meno o di altro — illecito, casto, sbrigativo, coniugale, furtivo. A quarter mile of trees in fragrant rows Arching above us. We had the luck, if you can call it that, Of having been in love but never lovers— The bright lame burning, fed by pure desire. Nothing consumed, such secrets brought to light!
There was a moment when I stood behind you, Reached out to spin you toward me.
What more could I have wanted from that day? Everything, of course. Perhaps that was the point— To learn that what we will not grasp is lost. Prayer at Winter Solstice Blessed is the road that keeps us homeless. Blessed is the mountain that blocks our way. Blessed are hunger and thirst, loneliness and all forms of [desire.
Blessed is the labor that exhausts us without end. Blessed are the night and the darkness that blinds us. Blessed is the cold that teaches us to feel. Blessed are the cat, the child, the cricket, and the crow. Blessed is the hawk devouring the hare. Niente consumato, tanti segreti portati alla luce! Tutto, naturalmente. Beati sono la fame e la sete, la solitudine ed ogni forma di [desiderio.
Beati sono il gatto, il bambino, il grillo e il corvo. Blessed are the dead, calm in their perfection. Blessed is the pain that humbles us. Blessed is the distance that bars our joy. Blessed is this shortest day that makes us long for light. Blessed is the love that in losing we discover. Pity the Beautiful Pity the beautiful, the dolls, and the dishes, the babes with big daddies granting their wishes.
Pity the pretty boys, the hunks, and Apollos, the golden lads whom success always follows, The hotties, the knock-outs, the tens out of ten, the drop-dead gorgeous, the great leading men. Pity the gods, no longer divine. Pity the night the stars lose their shine. Beati sono i morti, calmi nella loro perfezione. Compatite i belli Compatite le persone belle, le bambole, i bei bocconcini, le pupe con tutti i desideri soddisfatti dai gran paparini.
Le grandi iche, le donne da schianto, tutti coloro a punteggi mai visti, le bellezze che ti fanno morire, i grandi attori protagonisti. Compatite i goni, gli sciatti e sbiaditi, gli Adoni panciuti da fortuna traditi. Compatite gli dei, che hanno perso il divino. Compatite la notte in cui le stelle non brillino. II I was of three minds, Like a tree In which there are three blackbirds.
III The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds.