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Theme of Farewell and After-Poems电子书

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作       者:De Angelis, Milo

出  版  社:University of Chicago Press

出版时间:2014-10-12

字       数:23.2万

所属分类: 进口书 > 外文原版书 > 文学/自传/回忆录

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Milo De Angelis, born in 1951, is one of the most important living Italian poets. With this volume, Susan Stewart and?Patrizio Ceccagnoli bring to English readers for the first time a facing-page edition of his most recent work: his book-length elegy,?Theme of Farewell, and the subsequent poems of That Wandering in?the Darkness of Courtyards. These two books form a sequence narrating the illness and premature death, in 2003, of the poet's wife, the writer Giovanna Sicari, a celebrated poet in her own right; they also trace De Angelis's turn from grief, through time, back to the world. Immediate, perceptive, and woven from the fabric of everyday life in contemporary Milan, the poems never depart from universal human emotions of despair and awakening. Throughout his long career, De?Angelis has renewed lyric poetry with the sheer intensity of his forms and insights, and the volumes offered here have won some of the most important Italian literary awards, including the coveted Premio Viareggio.?These inexorable and beautifully crafted translations will be of interest to scholars of contemporary Italian literature, students?of contemporary poetry and literary translation, and those who work in comparative literature. Above all, they are bound to speak to any reader in search of a poet writing at the height of his powers of expression.
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Cover

Copyright

Title Page

Contents

Acknowledgments

Introduction

Italian

Tema dell’ addio

I. Vedremo domenica

Contare i secondi, i vagoni dell’Eurostar, vederti

Milano era asfalto, asfalto liquefatto. Nel deserto

Non è più dato. Il pianto che si trasformava

Tutto era già in cammino. Da allora a qui. Tutto

Non c’era più tempo. La camera era entrata in una fiala

Nell’estate del tempo umano, nell’ultima estate

C’è stato un compleanno, all’inizio, certamente

In te si radunano tutte le morti, tutti

Il luogo era immobile, la parola scura. Era quello

Affogano le nazioni, crollano le torri, un caos

II. Scena muta

Ci teniamo vicini

L’essenza della carne ferita

Sotto i cavi sospesi

Dove ondeggiava il sangue, dove il perfetto

Un improwiso ci porta nel dolore

Un istante della terra

Eri l’ultima

Lungo una strada di Roserio

Noi che abbiamo conosciuto

III. Trovare la vena

Cresce l’ansia nei bicchieri

È follia di tutti, l’estate, traffico

Nessun gloria in excelsis, ma un groviglio

Poi ci fu l’esplorazione atterrita del tuo

Sei un lontano passo di danza

Un suono di ninna nanna chiama la morte

Potenza del minuto contato, culmine

I battiti carnali si stringono a una doccia

Come un fiore che non ha prodigio, come un passo

Toccandoti la fronte sentivi il mare

IV. Quel lontano di noi

Ci viene restituita una corsa a Villa Scheibler

C’è un’ora che raccoglie tutte le ore

Tra figure d’indugio e di ansia, siamo scesi

Nella stanza, nel modo esatto

Ma a volte, tornando, s’incontra l’ira dei morti

Nell’ora consacrata, nella chiarezza

Tavolta è stato attendere nel buio

Bruciava l’asfalto e tu eri sola

Sulla tua fronte restava un segno

Quell’ignoto che in pieno giorno

V. Hotel Artaud

Mi saluti, ti rimetti il reggiseno, senti

Noi qui, separati dai nostri gesti. Tu blocchi

Ti alzi e ti tuffi, vuoi inghiottire la vita

Negli estremi atti di forza, nelle labbra sensitive

Divina e distratta, sospinta da una lieve brezza

Ci siamo presi, volti affannati e circospetti

Quando su un volto desiderato si scorge il segno

VI. Visite serali

A te, amore, una semplice

Nella tua estrema voce

Camminavi con la coscienza del sangue

La miniera dell’ultimo vedersi, il nome

Sotto la camicetta verde c’era un vuoto

Nell’state spoglia, nella definitiva

Invochi il respiro, la giusta

Nell’invalicabile minuto tornano tutti

Ora si è spezzato l’ordine, ora

Il cancello si apriva, erano le undici

All’appello totale, all’appello

Quell’andarsene nel buio dei cortili

I. Alfabeto del momento

A volte, sull’orlo della notte, si rimane sospesi

Mi attendono nascosti. Talvolta

Era buio. Il centro di agosto era buio

Nessuno riposa. Il ragazzo

È qui, in un angolo della stanza, scocca

Vicina all’anima è la linea verticale

Ció che vedo mi fu consegnato

Oscillano le lettere sul quaderno

I muri sono il luogo di un racconto minore

Passioni del vento

È entrato qui

Ho saputo, amica mia

Ecco l’acrobata della notte, il corpo

II. Finale d’assedio

L’inizio è stato questo, tra le rovine

L’amore era silenzioso come una congiura

La notte esce dalle mani

È tardi

Rintocca il motivo del grande risveglio

Il fermaglio è ancora qui

Così ritornano e sentono

Non ho saputo capire

Ma poi quell’ansia ostruita

L’infinito appare nel poco

È così. La memoria

III. Un’oscura sete

Non rispondono all’appello, sono

Anzi, è sempre più vicina

Per nascere occorre un ritorno

Torna antica la parola

Giungono, stanno giungendo. Sono brandelli

Transita nelle case popolari

Abbiamo scritto per un mandato

Si spalancò la porta furente, uscì

Nostre amate sillabe

IV. Sei perduto

Chi parla nella sera? Chi preme

Strada dei tormenti, l’amore insiste

Fermalo. Il portone sta fuggendo. Devi

Non andare. Ora che la notte

La luce parlava. Sulla tua fronte

Ora ti conosci

Cosa hai chiesto? Qualcosa

Sotto i nostri cappotti

Tu dov’eri? Ti aspettavo

V. Canzoncine

Scala F

Via Selvanesco

Via Selvanesco, ancora . . .

Puntaspilli

Punteggio

Inchiostro nero

Cum più ablativo

19 marzo

Voci

I. Ci frastorna questa furia di voci, foglie

II. . . . allora mi chiamò un drappello

III. “l’invisible assedia il computer

IV. nel buio senza notte

V. si spezza il tempo, si oscura

VI. insegnatemi il cammino, voi che siete

English

Theme of Farewell

I. We Will See Sunday

Keeping track of the seconds, the Eurostar’s passenger coaches, to see you

Milan was asphalt, liquid asphalt. In the desert

Nothing more can be done. The crying that turned

Everything was already on its way. From there to here. All

There was no more time. The room was poured into a phial

In the summer of human time, in the last summer

There was a birthday, at the start, without a doubt

In you all deaths gather, all

The place was motionless, the word obscure. That was

The nations drown, the towers collapse, a chaos

II. Dumb Show

We keep close

The essence of wounded flesh

Under the suspension cables

Where the blood rippled, where our perfect

Something unexpected carries us into the sorrow

An instant of the earth

You were the last

Along a road in Roserio

We who have known

III. To Find the Vein

The anxiety in the drinking glasses grows

It’s everybody’s crack-up, the summer, the construction sites’

No gloria in excelsis, but a nervous

Then there was the terrified exploration of your

You are a distant dancing step

The lullaby’s music calls to death

Power of the counted minute, height

The body’s pulses draw nearer to a shower

Like a flower without wonder, like a step

By feeling your forehead, you used to hear the sea

IV. That Distance of Ours

A dash to Villa Scheibler is restored to us

There’s an hour that gathers all the hours

Among figures of delay and anxiety, we went down

Inside the room, inside that exact way

But sometimes, in turning back, one meets with the anger of the dead

We were within the consecrated hour

Sometimes it was waiting in the dark

The asphalt burned and you were alone

On your forehead a sign of the night

That unknown taking us away

V. Hotel Artaud

You greet me, you put your bra back on, you feel

Here we stand, separated by our gestures. You block

You stand up and dive, you want to swallow life

In the final feats of strength, in the tender lips

Divine and absent-minded, carried along by a soft breeze

We took one another down, breathless and circumspect faces

When on a beloved face you catch a glimpse of the sign

VI. Evening Visits

For you, my love, a simple

In your last voice

You walked along conscious of blood

The mine of the final meeting, the name

Under the green blouse there was an emptiness

In the bare summer, in the definitive one

You summon the breath, the best

In the impassable minute return all

Now the order has broken down, now

The gate opened, it was eleven

At the total roll call, the roll call

That Wandering in the Darkness of Courtyards

I. Alphabet of the Moment

At times, on night’s brim, you stay suspended

Hidden, they wait for me. Sometimes

It was dark. August was dark at its center

No one rests. The boy

It’s here, in a corner of the room, her arrow

The vertical line is next to the soul

What I see was consigned to me

Letters waver in the notebook

The walls are the location of a minor story

The wind’s passions

It came in here

I found out, my friend

Here is night’s acrobat, the body

II. The Siege’s Ending

This is how it started, between the ruins

Love was silent as a conspiracy

Night leaves the hands

It’s late

The motif of the great awakening tolls

The barrette is still here

Thus they return and feel

I couldn’t get it

But then that blocked anxiety

The infinite appears in the little

That’s how it is. The memory

III. A Dark Thirst

They don’t respond to the roll call, they are

In fact, it is always nearer

To be born requires a return

The word grows old

They come, they are coming. They are shreds

In transit between the housing projects

We wrote for a mandate

The furious door opened wide, the platoon

Our beloved syllables

IV. You Are Lost

Who speaks in the evening? Who still buzzes

Street of torments, love insists

Stop it. The front door is running away. You must

Don’t go. Now that the night

The light spoke. On your forehead

Now you know yourself

What did you ask? Something

Beneath our coats

Where were you? I was waiting for you

V. Little Songs

Stairway F

Selvanesco Street

Selvanesco Street, Again . . .

Pincushion

Score

Black Ink

Cum + Ablative

March 19

Voices

I. We are deafened by this fury of voices, leaves

II. . . . and then a squad of lonely souls

III. “the invisible lays siege to the computer

IV. in the darkness without night

V. time snaps, darkens

VI. teach me the path, you who have

Notes

Selected Bibliography

Index of First Lines and Titles

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