I love to Alessandro Manzoni! Weather ours! The events come on suddenly and suddenly evaporate and liquefy. And so the emotions explode in media tom-toms and then suddenly dissolve and fall into oblivion, unable to find fertile memory where they can settle and become feelings of the founding values \u200b\u200bof being human.
But why write? Or rather, why you write? I think you write for the lighting or the light of the feelings of an idea . The text responds to the need to distill signs, first to themselves, warning of the movements of the heart, or tidying up the images and concepts of 'idea. Unless you write for arid exercise in rhetoric, as perlopiù si insegna a scuola. Quando poi i moti e le urgenze del cuore si trasformano in creature fantastiche, in immagini tangibili, allora la scrittura diventa poesia.
In questi giorni quante parole suggerisce il revival risorgimentale !
Per me non può essere che un piacere! Nelle felici aule della mia infanzia, delle quali ho parlato altrove, ho imparato tutti gli inni che, improvvisamente rispolverati, risuonano ora dovunque.
Mi ricordo anche di aver dovuto mandare a memoria, in quarta elementare, Il Giuramento di Pontida di Giovanni Berchet che, misero lui, piangerebbe oggi di dolore venendo a sapere della trasformazione simbolica subita dalla Of the Lombard League against Frederick Barbarossa the work of Umberto Bossi and companionship.
For my part, before the fanfare that echoes one hundred and fifty years of the Risorgimento Unit, I have always brought the study of Romantic poetry - the Risorgimento. After all our great romantic opera is all imbued with that spirit.
omit the heroic fire and the Muses "of mortal thought soul" of the poetic words of burning Ugo Foscolo to dwell on the universal voice of a poet of justice, pain, faith, the "humble" redeemed, the language of clarity oppose the language of the shyster crooks, petty lawlessness helpers and the arrogance of power . I'm talking about Alessandro Manzoni, great grandson of Cesare Beccaria , another Italian glory, but also a champion of universal rights of human beings.
Chorus When I read the third act of the tragedy Adelchi , I love to Alessandro Manzoni. The verses come from reason and feeling unanimous. And the love of country or nationality is not rhetorical. The poet's eye alights on a saddened "vulgar name that has not dispersed." born from sorrow words. Bitterly the poet sees the shining through of the "fair virtues "of the fathers by the" look doubtful, from the fearful faces, proud of their "superb ruins." The patriotism of the choir is separated from ideals of the Enlightenment, of which the eyes of faith have broadened the horizon, in a historical perspective, ranging from the metaphysical, never resigned, but always animated by a militant dall'ardore of justice, hic et nunc.
is why the voice Manzoni scathing satirical to be known as "the mob dispersed." This force would like to say that Italians do not just wave the flag, sing our hymns and praise the "superb ruins" to renew the courage and the hopes for Italy. You need a heroic will, where every day we decide our action, to oppose injustice, lawlessness, the abuse and arrogance of a culture increasingly expression of that "unique thought" that gives us the emotional upheavals of a day, but then gags and crushes us with the logic of the surveys and percentages, with sweeteners thrown to the "common people dispersed" as the bone to the hungry dogs.
memory is sacred, but it can be sterile reenactment, rhetoric event, if it feeds the desire for a genuine revival, if not turn on "the strong spirit to egregious things," to testify that "a mob dispersed," but a people united hopes and believes that freedom, justice and solidarity are the basic values \u200b\u200bof Italy.
Choir 's third act of the tragedy Adelchi of Alessandro Manzoni
From the mossy halls, shooting holes,
From the woods, ARSIA forges jarring, rutted
wet servant sweat,
A mob dispersed suddenly wakes;
Will the ear, lifts his head
Strapped growing outcry from scratch. Have a look
doubters, by fearful faces,
What sunshine by thick clouds, shines
fathers' Under the fair:
Ne 'look, it' faces, confused and uncertain
It pours scorn and strife suffered the Col
put pride of a time that was.
be gathered eager, trembling gets lost, For
wrong paths with step wandering
Among theme and desire, comes forward and rest;
And thine eye and behold disheartened and confused
De 'raw diffuse the mob lords, What
fleeing the brand, which did not stop.
see them panting, trembling quai beasts, lest the tawny
shaggy manes,
Notes recesses of the nest searching;
And there, placed used the threat
Women superb, with pale face, thoughtful gazes pensively
Children .
And over the fugitives, with eager sword,
Quai dissolved dogs, running, digging,
From standing, to be lacking, be warriors:
sees them, and kidnapped by an unknown happy
With agile hope ahead of the event,
and dreams of the end of the hard serve.
Hear! Those who hold the strong field,
What your tyrants precludon Norway lobster,
Son came from afar to harsh sentier:
suspended the joys of the festive Prandi,
Assursero quickly from mild rest, suddenly
Called by warrior ring. Let
in the rooms of my home
Women heartfelt, bends goodbye,
to pray and cry that the severed tips:
Han laden with the forehead of the 'pests crests, Han
put saddles on horses brown,
Volaron on the bridge that sounded dull. A
crowds, land passed into the earth,
joyous singing war songs, but the sweet
castles thinking in my heart: To
stony valleys, jumps to hijack,
Vegliaron in arming the frosty nights,
member of the trusted talks love '.
The dark dangers of rooms unfortunate,
For Greppi senz'orma frantic races,
The rigid empire, the family endure;
we saw the spears fell on breasts,
A hand shields, helmets with hugging, heard him
arrows whistling fly.
and hoped the prize, promised to those strong
would, or disappointed, Please contact either the fate, a common foreign D'
end the pain?
Go back to your superb ruins, cowardly ars
op shops, the furrows
wet sweat of a slave.
The fort is won mixes with the enemy, Col
novo remains the old gentleman;
The one on the neck and the other people there is.
divide servants dividon herds;
They are placed together on the bloody fields
On a vulgar name that has not dispersed.
