my tumblelog

San Lorenzo, io lo so perché tanto

San Lorenzo (10th of August), I know why so many

di stelle per l’aria tranquilla arde e cade,

stars burn and fall in the tranquil air,

perché sì gran pianto

why such great weeping

nel concavo cielo sfavilla.

sparkles in the concave sky.

Ritornava una rondine al tetto:

A swallow was returning to the roof:

l’uccisero: cadde tra spini:

they killed her: she fell among thorns:

ella aveva nel becco un insetto:

in her beak she had an insect:

la cena de’ suoi rondinini.

the dinner of her little swallows.

Ora è là, come in croce, che tende

Now she is there, as if on a cross, stretching

quel verme a quel cielo lontano;

that worm toward that distant sky;

e il suo nido è nell’ombra, che attende,

and her nest is in the shadow, waiting,

che pigola sempre più piano.

chirping ever softer.

Anche un uomo tornava al suo nido:

A man was also returning to his nest:

l’uccisero: disse: Perdono;

they killed him: he said: Forgive me;

e restò negli aperti occhi un grido:

and a cry remained in his open eyes:

portava due bambole in dono…

he was carrying two dolls as a gift...

Ora là, nella casa romita,

Now there, in the solitary house,

lo aspettano, aspettano in vano:

they wait for him, they wait in vain:

egli immobile, attonito, addita

motionless, astonished, he points

le bambole al cielo lontano

the dolls to the distant sky.

E tu, Cielo, dall’alto dei mondi

And you, Heaven, from the heights of the

sereni, infinito, immortale

serene worlds, infinite, immortal,

oh! d’un pianto di stelle lo inondi

oh! with a weeping of stars, you flood

quest’atomo opaco del Male!

this opaque atom of Evil!

- Giovanni Pascoli, X Agosto (+ English translation)

"X Agosto" is the most famous poem by Giovanni Pascoli (San Mauro di Romagna, 31 December 1855 – Bologna, 6 April 1912), studied in both middle and high schools.

It was composed in memory of his father, Ruggero Pascoli, who was killed in an ambush with rifle shots while returning home from the Cesena market on 10 August 1867, the feast day of Saint Lawrence. The exact motive was never officially clarified and remains a mystery to this day, but historical and judicial theories link the crime to grudges related to his role as a land administrator or to local and political vendettas. The two assassins were Luigi Pagliarani, known as Bigéca (a fervent republican), and Michele Della Rocca, likely incited by the alleged instigator.

On the day of the murder, Pascoli was just 11 years old, and he would remain deeply traumatized by it for the rest of his life. Deeply connected to his tender childhood memories, the poet idealizes his father as a pure and innocent man. In the poem, Pascoli compares his father to a swallow, a blameless victim of human cruelty, who dies on the cross like Jesus Christ.

Following the father's death, the family gradually began to lose its economic status and subsequently suffered a series of bereavements, falling apart: forced to leave the estate, the following year (1868) his sister Margherita died of typhus and their mother of a heart attack. In 1871 his brother Luigi died from meningitis, and in 1876, their older brother Giacomo, a municipal councilor in Rimini, also died of typhus. According to some research, however, Giacomo's death was not natural but rather due to poisoning by unknown persons who ordered him and his brothers Raffaele and Giovanni not to continue the investigation into their father's murder. (Wikipedia)

All this pain shaped the poet's perception of the outside world as a hostile and evil place, gratuitously cruel, against which the only protection and consolation was the "Nest," the family affection.

From 1885, Pascoli began living with his sisters Ida and Maria (called Mariù) in a house in Massa (and later in Livorno and Castelvecchio), in a mutual attempt to reestablish the original unity of their family. In 1895, Ida married Salvatore Berti and left the house, causing Giovanni to feel profound grief and a sense of abandonment.

Maria instead remained at the poet's side throughout her life, as both refused to marry. She managed the house, protected her brother's memory, and curated his archive and posthumous works until her death at the age of 88, on the 5 of December 1953.