De Sicilia a Piamonte con Garibaldi

https://www.amazon.com.mx/dp/B0BQJNNXKV

Segundo en la Clasifica Amazon mi novela Italiana "De Sicilia a Piamonte con Garibaldi".

La novela es la historia real de un héroe Garibaldi, injustamente olvidado, que se llamaba Gaspare Nicolosi de Mazara del Vallo. Su historia me la contó su sobrina de línea, Silvia Nicolosi, cuando tenía noventa años. A continuación se muestra el prefacio de la profesora Silvia Nicolosi Dessy Deliperi a la primera edición de 2012.

"Mi abuelo Gaspare fue un hombre y soldado estimado y muy honrado. Lamentablemente murió muy joven, en 1904, a causa de un infarto y la abuela Luigia, a quien tuve tiempo de conocer, junto con mi tía materna más joven, murieron con pocos días de diferencia, arrasadas por esa espantosa enfermedad mortal. que causó más muertes en Europa que la guerra.La historia de los complots contra mi abuelo fue inventada deliberadamente y con su prosa agradable y fluida Basile logró hacerla muy verosímil. Concluyo diciendo que Basile y yo no pretendemos ser historiadores, sino sólo demostrar que el movimiento del Resurgimiento se sintió en muchas familias, que supieron soportar las muertes con dignidad. En definitiva, creemos que nuestra historia es un pequeño trozo que debe insertarse, con razón, en el gran mosaico glorioso de la muy dolorosa historia de nuestra Italia. Cumplí 100 años hace unos días y esto me hace perdonar la escasez e incertidumbre a la hora de escribir. ¡¡¡Un profesor de literatura entonces!!! Disculpe, pero la naturaleza es implacable". Cagliari, 19 de abril de 2012 Silvia Nicolosi Dessy Deliperi

Espero un dia que mi novela pueda ver la luz en idioma castellano. Por el momento es disponible en su version Italiana en Amazon a través del siguiente enlace: 

https://www.amazon.com.mx/dp/B0BQJNNXKV

Memories from the past

 

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CW1FTLMB

I don’t want to be a poet anymore

I don’t want to be a poet

I want to be none

But a casting shadow in the night time

Looking for his own body!

 

I don’t want your mercy

Your esteem

I don’t need your approval

I’m not looking neither for success

Nor for glory

Not even for reigning

Over golden-plated  worlds.

 

I don’t search a leadership

Over Wastepaper troops

But I’m only on search

Of my real, original stuff!

 

Blame me deeply

Crush me under your feet

Forefinger me

As a pattern of human abjection,

Driven by your envy

you will be

slaves of your own

measured freedom.

 

You will be winners

As well as defeated

Struggling the battle.

You will be the machines

Of your own progress!

 

On construing

You’ll be destroying

And going towards

You will go backwards.

Inevitably!

Memories from the past

 

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CW1FTLMB

Flower of Antioch

(for  Inès)

Goodbye flower of Antioch

I sucked your nectar

For a day

And then

I have blown away!

 

Ah if my fate had made me not a bee

I would not be here

Flying from bloom to bloom

Searching for inexistent happiness

But between your petals

Fragrant of love.

 

Memories from the past

 

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CW1FTLMB

Flying the skies for ever

 

Who knows why human beings, since long time past

Have been dreaming to be able to fly?

The reason might be they always had trust

In God Almighty living in the sky!

And like a deer feeling thirsty and so dry

Longs for its spring to extinguish its fire

For men to be where He’s supposed to lie

His Creator is the greatest desire!

Go thus man and fly, higher and higher

Put your country’s flag along the universe

Or simply let some stuff make you a liar

Or dream you are flying while loving your own nurse!

Only when your body’s time is over

Your soul will be flying the sky forever!

Memories from the past

 

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CW1FTLMB

I promise to talk

If there is someone who knows, he must talk!

To tell us why the son

has been torn from His Mother…

And the brother from his brother….

And why guiltless children and timeless old men?

Why?

I can still see them on spirit and flesh

fluctuating through the chimney pots

greeting us with a compassionate smile.

I, still hear barks and voices

assembling, frightening, dispersing,

chopping off bonds of affection;

and today, again, more children 

dying under the cruelty of soldiers

who seem not to know they exist

in the name of the same God.

I feel the shame to be a man!

And the fear to be alive and to love!

But why

if even Jesus Christ, from the Cross,

had already forgiven us!

Why? Can somebody tell me why?

Please let talk those who can, those who want it!

And if you know, please talk about it.

I promise I will do it

For not to forget.

Memories from the past

 

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CW1FTLMB

In death of my father

 

I do not remember now

In the name of what kind of freedom

Your agendas I wanted to fight

Although today I know

The law we faced against

But later I knew

That not of iron

was made your heart!

And how many fairy tales,

I still had to tell you

But you seemed to be eternal!

Play in the heavens

Trumpet of silence

In honor

Of that sergeant

Who is not anymore!

Memories from the past

 

The sleeping  souls

 

The souls kept sleeping

In the shadow of reason

As we ran away

From the golden prisons

Of our unfair society

Meeting the horror

Of illusory freedom

Of unattainable equalities

of fallacious brotherhoods.

And there was no poetry

In the violence

And in the silence

Of death.