I do not want to write poems
anymore
I do not want to write poetry
Made of lines that drip
Blood oozing from my heart!
I do not want to write poetry
wails of a denied love
Lamentations of my solitude!
And only the prayers
soothe
My thirst for love!
Your power won’t last forever
Come on great men of the world
who owe the power
You have already had much money
To move on soldiers
much gold to feel stronger
luxury palaces to live comfortably safe in!
And fields, ground, soil, trees,
Rivers, lakes and seas
As far as your own eyes can get
‘Till the horizons can show!
But do you really think
your power will last forever?
Don’t you remember Ramses the Third,
Cyrus of Persia, Nebuchadnezzar,
Alexander the Great, the emperor Augustus
and all the kings from the past up to Napoleon?
You’re now inventing new richness made of nothing
You’re exploiting the soil under its surface
And even you’re searching for more in the universe
Still cheating the poor!
But don’t never forget
Whom God created the world for!
A Backward Look, from the Zibaldone to the Infinito, passing through Horace and the Operette Morali
Almost two hundred years
after his death, what remains alive and relevant in Leopardi's poetry? In an
age dominated by the hypertrophy of the ego, in which poetic writing often
risks retreating into an intimate diary or a pure navel-gazing outburst, it is
urgent to question the profound meaning of writing poetry. What is poetry if
not the act of throwing our individual consciousness onto the entire cosmos?
From this perspective,
the poetry of the great poet from Recanati is a window still open onto the
universe, and as such, it retains its universality intact.
To restore poetry to its
original stature, we must rediscover the category of "philosophical
poetry": a form of poetry that does not renounce form, but transfigures it
into a tool for existential, metaphysical, and cosmic inquiry. On this journey,
two masters two millennia apart join hands: Quintus Horatius Flaccus and his
brilliant reader and translator from Recanati, Giacomo Leopardi.
1. The Poet's Workshop:
The Horatian Lesson of the Very Young Leopardi
In 1811, a not yet
thirteen-year-old Leopardi, immersed in "seven years of mad and desperate
study" in his father's library, embarked on a surprising undertaking: the
translation of Horace's Ars Poetica into octaves. Horace is not only the poet
of carpe diem; he is the theoretician of measure, of balance, of labor limae
(the patient and rigorous filing of the text).
Horace's verses, revived
by Leopardi, are a stern warning against facile writing. We have already seen
how, for Leopardi, poetry is not an improvised outpouring, but a craft that
demands artisanal discipline, labor as hard as that of a blacksmith.
But it is above all on
the quality of the work that Horace and Leopardi are adamant:
"Mediocre is
tolerated in some things; / not in poetry: just as in honey / a fastidious
mouth does not like / an almond as bitter as gall. / How much better would it
be to write in prose / for one who in verse is truly a cruel man..."
Poetry does not allow for
half measures. While in other arts or professions, average quality can remain
useful, in poetry mediocrity is equivalent to failure. A mediocre poem is like
a bitter almond drowned in honey: it spoils the whole. Leopardi shares with
Horace an almost tragic severity: those who lack the mettle or preparation to
bear the weight of the prose verse form should leave the lyre to those who have
the "shoulders" to support it.
And to prevent
narcissistic illusion from deceiving the author, here is the famous advice of
silence and critical scrutiny:
"But if ever, to
gain honor and praise, / you sometimes wish to scribble / four verses, O Piso,
/ show them to your parent / or to a wise and good censor; / then let them be
locked up for a long time / because if a man once escapes / he does not return
even from the disappointed!"
Horace's
"Decalogue" recommended letting the writing "rest" for nine
years (nonumque prematur in annum). The written word, once published, can no
longer be recalled. The authentic poet knows how to wait, knows how to let
emotion settle so that only the crystalline essence of truth remains.
2. From Form to the
Cosmos: The Genesis of the Operette Morali
What does this formal
rigor have to do with the Operette Morali? It has a crucial role to play.
When Leopardi composed
the Operette Morali between 1824 and 1825, he applied to philosophical prose
the same ruthless discipline he had learned from Horace and the classics. The
Operette Morali are, upon closer inspection, philosophical poetry in the form
of ironic and dialogical prose. The brevity, essentiality, absence of frills,
and lucidity of style are the direct result of that Horatian apprenticeship.
But there's more: in the
Operette Morali, Leopardi makes the decisive leap that separates the simple
versifier from the great philosopher-poet. He stops viewing his own personal
misfortunes as a private matter and transforms individual suffering into a magnifying
glass on the cosmic condition.
When, in the Dialogue
between Nature and an Icelander, Nature responds with icy indifference to the
pangs of man, or when, in the Dialogue between a Goblin and a Gnome, he shows
how the Earth continues its imperturbable motion even after the disappearance
of humanity, Leopardi is writing philosophical poetry. He is teaching poets of
all times that the true subject of art is not our petty daily neurosis, but the
tragic, sublime, and mysterious relationship between human consciousness and
the immensity of the Universe.
3. A lesson for poets
today and tomorrow
Meditating on these
Horatian verses translated by the young Giacomo is an exercise in salutary
humility for anyone today who picks up a pen or sits down at a keyboard with
the ambition of writing poetry.
What do Horace and
Leopardi teach us?
1. Respect for technique:
Poetry is not mere instinct or an unreflective flow of consciousness. It is
architecture, rhythm, measure, and precise word choice.
2. The courage of truth
(the philosophical dimension): Poetry that endures is that which can question
existence. It is not content to describe a fleeting feeling, but digs to the
roots of pain, joy, hope, and emptiness.
3. Overcoming
egocentrism: True "philosophical poetry" is not sterile
encyclopedism, but the ability to connect the beat of one's heart with the beat
of the cosmos. As in Ginestra, poetry becomes the place where man acknowledges
his own fragility and, precisely for this reason, weaves a network of universal
empathy.
Let us therefore meditate
on these verses together, all of us who aspire to be poets or who love poetry.
Let us remember the "ferraro," the value of silence before
publication, and above all the responsibility to offer the reader not the
superfluous, but a polished gem capable of illuminating, even if only for an
instant, the darkness of infinity.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FQ488BSM
Now I know what is love
Now I know what is love
Not the sudden passion
that turns off soon
and then rises again
Not even your eyes
May be sincere
But not eternal
Not your vain, fallacious promises
But the Word that never betrays
It’s
true love!
The wasted love
Along the path
Of my wasted loves
Travels my mind
Through the beams
of the night
And I realize
now I miss
The God's wasted love!
In
Cagliari 2017
The poet’s claim
The lambs lie down
on Westminster
sacrificed by the
shot dead priest
of the nothingness
faith
pushed by madness
moved by hate
sent by
pretending prophets
who now are
cheering up
for more victims
in the pantheon
web
of foolishness.
But two faults
never can make a
why,
and violence can
never be justified
even if you had a
reason
to be spent
somewhere.
Men of power,
for the sake of
the True
Merciful God
of the whole
humanity,
please, put apart
any selfishness
and hear the poor
poet
claiming for
justice.
In London the 22nd
of March 2017
A love triangle in London
A single Act in nine scenes
Dramatis Personae
Max Sailor: A young man looking
for his own way
Brenda Parnell: Max’s girlfriend
George Tender: Good friend of
Max’s and Brenda’s
Jonathan Close: A good Jewish boy from England
Elvira Giusti: Former Jon ’s girlfriend
Hamed Farsiwill : Iranian student refugee-Escaped from Iranian Revolution
Rocìo Peròn-Mendoza: Colombian
student
Francesco Soggiu: Italian
Theologian Student
Inspector Green: Head of local police
Jim Cope: Inspector’s Green first man
Roy Elther: Inspector ‘s Green Second man
Vincent and Norman: pushers from Jamaica (do not appear)
(The drama is set in London at any week-end between 1979 and 1980 in the
Hampstead Max ’s parents house)
Scene I
(Max, Brenda, George in a large bedroom)
Max (lying on the bed, in a dreaming voice)
-Tonight
I would like to fly!!
Brenda (getting closer to hold the smoking pipe
Max is handing to her, in a very sensual voice through the smoke she will take
from the pipe)
-Why
waiting tonight, my dear?
Max (getting up and giving the pipe Brenda is
handing to George)
-Not in that sense, Brenda! George have you got
me?
George
-Of
course I have! You would like to be some kind of flying bird, wouldn’t you?
Brenda (after passing the pipe George is handing
to Max, miming a bird with open arms)
-Oh,
yes! Let’s be a crow! Or even better, as we say with the Irish word, let’s be a
Préachàn (draws a crow’s sound
from her tongue)
George (also laughing )
-I would
prefer to be a dog sail!
Max (putting down the pipe on a bedside table)
-Great!
I would also like it! A dog sail following the wake of a ship! For ever!
(The phone bell breaks on afterwards)
Max (picking up the phone)
-Hello!?
(pause)
Max
-Sure!
It’s right today!
(pause again)
Max
-Any
time you like in the afternoon!!
(another pause)
Max
-I’ll
see you later, then! By, by!!
Brenda
-Who was
it?
Max
-He was
Francesco, ‘you know? The italian guy who is following our philosophy term at
College….
Brenda
-Ah, the
Jesuit priest? What did he want?
George
-He’s
not a priest yet!
Max
-I had
formerly invited him to the party…and he just wanted a confirmation….
Brenda
-He’s
not a priest yet then?! That’s why he‘s joining the party!! He has told me
anyway he is graduated in theological sciences or something like that…
Max
-Actually
is doing a sort of sabbatical time before taking the final votes!
George
-That’s
the way Jesuits are unlisted…
Max
-They
are supposed to experience in all things of the life before becoming a priest….
Brenda (laughing maliciously)
-Even
going with women?
George
-I think
they are! The things of life also
include screwing, don’t they?
Max (taking again the pipe in his hands)
-And
also smoking I might suppose…
Brenda
-I
expect a priest would not copulate neither smoke…
Max
-‘ you
catholic! You’re always living among prohibitions! Is not the same for the
orthodox, is it George?
George
-I think
is not at all! As far as I know they can even get married!
Brenda
-As
matter of fact: they have to get marry before any carnal relation!!
Max
-But
Francesco is still a laic man!!
Brenda
-And
laity are not supposed to go with any woman before they get marry with them!!
George
-All
this matter looks like a dog trying to catch
its own tail, doesn’t it?
Max
-Quiet a
difficult matter to face on my birthday!
Brenda
-Oh, by
the way, did you enjoy my birthday’s present?
Max (watching up the pipe’s bowl and searching
somewhere around)
-Where
is the rest of the grass?
Brenda (handing him a small silver wrapping paper
)
-Here
you are!
Max (filling up the bowl and
passing to George the lighting pipe)
-Of
course I did! What about you George?
George (tasting a long blow and passing the pipe
to Brenda)
-That’s
really a special stuff! I’m stoned as hell!
Brenda (taking a blow)
-Why do
we say ‘stoned as hell’? I actually feel stoned as heaven!
Max
-Do we
have anymore to share with our guests?
Brenda
-Don’t
worry about. We’ll have plenty of it!!
Vincent, my pusher, has promised to come along with a large pound of the
same stuff, this afternoon, at five
o’clock; this was only a free sample (shows the empty tinfoil)
(A heavy sound hits the time)
George
-Goodness!
It’s one o’clock!?!
Brenda (laughing and mocking a famous song)
-And
time for lunch! Onky-tonky!
Max (laughing too)
-And
we still have to set the catering on the tables for the guests! They might be
coming soon!
Brenda
-Let’s
go upstairs then!
EXEUNT
to be continued...
