“As he was coming to see me, an elderly lady gave him a sprig of blue hyacinth, and with this he came to knock at my door. When I opened, he entered, and without speaking, waving that blue-green flower softly as if he were beating time to some rhythmic thought, he went to sit at the closed piano, took a piece of paper, and wrote…”

This is how Annie Vivanti recalled the moment Giosuè Carducci wrote the words that she would have engraved on her simple tombstone: “Batto a la chiusa imposta con un ramicello di fiori / glauchi ed azzurri, come i tuoi occhi, o Annie”

Ad Annie Giosuè Carducci Batto a la chiusa imposta con un ramicello di fiori glauchi ed azzurri, come i tuoi occhi, o Annie Vedi: il sole co ‘I riso d’un tremulo raggio ha baciato la nube, e ha detto– Nuvola bianca, t’apri. Senti: il vento de l’alpe con fresco susurro saluta la vela, e dice– Candida vela, vai. Mira: I’augel discende da l’umido cielo su ‘l pèsco in fiore, e trilla Vermiglia pianta, odora. Scende da’ miei pensieri l’eterna dea poesia su ‘I cuore, e grida– O vecchio cuore, batti. E docile il cuore ne’ tuoi grandi occhi di fata s’affisa, e chiama– Dolce fanciulla, canta.

For Annie   Giosuè Carducci I knock at your closed door with a flowered sprig of cyan and blue, like your eyes, oh Annie Look: the sun with its smiling tremulous ray has kissed the cloud, and said―White cloud, open. Listen: the alpine wind with its fresh sigh salutes the sail, and says―Candid sail, sally. Observe: the bird descends from the humid sky onto the peach tree in bloom, and trills Vermilion plant, fragrant. From my thoughts the eternal Goddess poetry descends onto my heart, and shouts―Oh, old heart, beat. And meekly my heart in your large fairy eyes is fixed, and calls―Sweet child, sing. Translation ©Matilda Colarossi 2024

The last years of Carducci’s life were made blissful by the presence of a woman who was much younger than he was, 29 years younger than he was: Annie Vivanti.

Annie Vivanti was young and blond with eyes the colour of the sea; half Italian and half German, she was greatly passionate about poetry and writing and music.

Legend has it that at only 18, she went to the editor Treves with her poems. The editor refused to publish them, but on seeing how young she was, he finally told her that if she got Carducci to write a preface, he’d publish them. So, that’s what Annie Vivanti did. She wrote to the poet asking him to read her poems and to meet: “Now, you either throw them away without reading them (and that would be bad!), or you read them and then throw them away (and that would be worse), or you read two poems…and allow me to meet You. If that is the case, should I come to You? Or would You honour me by coming to visit me here?” ¹

Audacious, to say the least.

And that audacity paid off: Vivanti and Carducci met in 1889 and he wrote a preface for her book of poems, which would be published 1890. That same year Carducci went to visit her in La Spezia and they started spending time together. It was on that occasion that Carducci composed the poem found here in translation.

The old poet and the young poet, the “orco” and the “fata” did not hesitate to be seen out together, notwithstanding the difference in age, notwithstanding the gossip.

Their relationship inspired Carducci’s poetry in the last stages of his life, and the poem “Ad Annie” was the emblem of their love.

In the summer of ’98, when Vivanti and Carducci separated forever, Carducci wrote, “Elegia di Monte Spluga”, forthcoming here in translation.

¹ “Giosue Carducci and Annie Vivanti – Addio caro orco”, Lettere e ricordi (1889-1906), Introduced and curated by Anna Folli. Milan: Feltrinelli Editore. 2004. The book can be found here: https://www.feltrinellieditore.it/opera/addio-caro-orco-1-2/

More about Annie Vivanti and her works can be found here: https://www.lib.uchicago.edu/efts/IWW/BIOS/A0051.html

Painting: Blue and Green Music (1919–21) by Georgia O’Keeffe

This work is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0