“It is alright to wish and aspire for poetry to be a larger part of our life, like it is in some Nordic countries, for poetry to accompany us with its lightness, in the toils of every day, and climb the stairs of the factory with us, and tread along the furrows of the meadows with us, walking at the same pace as the walking man.”- Franco Fortini
| La gioia avvenire Franco Fortini Potrebbe essere un fiume grandissimo Una cavalcata di scalpiti un tumulto un furore Una rabbia strappata uno stelo sbranato Un urlo altissimo. Ma anche una minuscola erba per i ritorni Il crollo d’una pigna nella fiamma Una mano che sfiora al passaggio O l’indecisione fissando senza vedere. Qualcosa comunque che non possiamo perdere Anche se ogni altra cosa è perduta E che perpetuamente celebreremo Perché ogni cosa nasce da quella soltanto. Ma prima di giungervi Prima la miseria profonda come la lebbra E le maledizioni imbrogliate e la vera morte. Tu che credi dimenticare vanitoso O mascherato di rivoluzione La scuola della gioia è piena di pianto e sangue Ma anche di eternità E dalle bocche sparite dei santi Come le siepi del marzo brillano le verità. | The joy to come Franco Fortini It may be an enormous river A galloping of hoofs a tumult a frenzy A rage snatched a stem scored An ear-splitting shriek. But also a tiny grass for the homecomings The toppling of a pinecone in the flame A hand that brushes in passing Or indecision staring without seeing. Something which at any rate we can’t lose Even if everything else is lost And which we shall perpetually celebrate For everything is born from that alone. But before reaching it Before, misery as profound as leprosy And the muddled imprecations and real death. You who believe forgetting vainglorious Or masked in revolution The school of joy is full of tears and blood But also of eternity And from the missing mouths of the saints Like the privets in March shine the truths. Translation ©Matilda Colarossi 2024si 2024 |
La gioia avvenire, today found in the collection Foglio di via, was not present in the first edition of the collection published in 1946. Written in 1945, it was added to the second edition in 1967. In it the poet looks to the future, to the inevitable, necessary, possibility of newfound joy, and he asks himself how that joy will present itself.
In the first stanza, joy will arrive and will be overpowering, travolgente; in the second, it is as small as a blade of grass: it is, in both cases, and however it presents itself, something “we can’t lose / Even if everything else is lost / And which we shall perpetually celebrate / For everything is born from that alone”.
In the third stanza he underlines the depths of misery one is often forced to touch before reaching that joy (we must remember the war, with its senseless destruction and loss, had just ended), but also that it is necessary: ”full of tears and blood / But also of eternity”.
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parallel texts: words reflected 