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Day by Day - Giuseppe Ungaretti

"No, Mom, have you ever suffered so much ..." And the face

already disappeared but the eyes
still alive from the pillow turned to the window, and
sparrows filled the room to

scattered the crumbs from the father to distract her baby ...

Now I can only dream kiss
's confident hands ...
and talks, jobs,
have just changed, I fear, smoke ...
How can I bear such night? ...

I will the years
who knows what other horrors, but I felt
beside
m'avresti consulate ...

Never, never know
enlightens me as the shadow that stands beside me, shy, when I hope
more ...

Now where, where is that naive
voice resonating in the race for the rooms,
worries raised by a tired man ...? The land has
defeat, protects
a past story ...

Any other voice is an echo that goes
now that calls me from the heights
immortal ...

In heaven I seek your happy face,
and my eyes see nothing in me also wants to close
when God ...

And I love you, love you, and it is constantly crashing! ...

furious land, sea huge
separates me from the place where the tomb now dispersed

the battered body ...
does not matter ... I always listen to that voice more distinct

soul that I could not defend here ...
M'isola, more festive and friendly
minute by minute,
in his simple secret ...

I returned to the hills, the pines and the rate of air
loved the native accent
riudrò not with you,
breaks my every breath ...

Skip the swallow summer and with it, and I
, I say, I will ... But I love that remains

wrenching not just sign a quick misting
if hell come to some peace ... Under the dark

disillusioned
branch falling just complain,
less than the leaf at the touch of the breeze ...
It was the fury that struck the tender form and caring

charity of an item consumes me ...

No more rage I went to summer
Spring nor his forebodings;
can decline, fall,
with your foolish glory:
for a bare desire
winter season stretches more lenient! ... Already

m'è bones fell
autumnal dryness, but
, continued from the shadows, infinite
occurs
a demented brilliance:
torture secret twilight
sunk ...

Rievocherò without remorse
always delightful agony of meaning? Play
, blind man: "A soul has left the ordinary punishment
still unscathed ..." I

discouraged unless
longer hear the cries of her purity live
to hear that almost extinct in the
me shudder in fear of crime? To dazzle

ringing the windows
team a reflection on the shade cloth,
fleeting return to the luster of a jar
dall'aiuola puffy hydrangeas, drunk a swallow,
the skyscraper in flames cloud, tree
, jumps of a small child ...

Inexhaustible
roar of waves is given then that comes into the room
and freshness of a restless
blue line, every wall disappears ... It's sweet and perhaps

nearby steps
saying: "This sun and plenty of space
you calm down. In the pure wind you can hear
time walk and my voice.
in me I picked up gradually and closed
The momentum of your silent hopes.
are for you the dawn and intact day

17 pieces, written between 1940 and 1946, dedicated to the premature death of nine year old son

Giuseppe Ungaretti (Alexandria, Egypt, February 8, 1888 - Milan, June 1, 1970)

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rock thrushes - San Giacomo Leopardi

D' on the summit of the ancient tower,
Thrush, singing
go to the campaign until the day more;
errs and harmony to this valley. Spring round

shines in the air, and fields for them cheers,
So were mirarla touches the core.
Odi flocks bleating, bellowing herds

other birds are happy to race together for the free sky
fan thousand revolutions,
while celebrating their best time:
you pensive on the sidelines all intended;
no companions, no flights,
not you care for fun, Dodge amusements;
songs, and so transitions
year of your life and the most beautiful flower.

Alas, how like my
your costume! Sollazzo and rice, sweet young age of
family, and you
German youth, love, bitter sigh
de 'experienced days
do not care, I do not know how, and indeed almost run away from them
away;
almost solitary, and strange to my site
native
step of my life in the spring. This day gives
ch'omai the evening, celebrate
is the custom in our village.
Listen to the peaceful sound of a ringing,
often hear a thunderclap of iron rods,
resounding far away from town to town. All dressed up

the youth of the site
leave the houses and streets spreads;
and aims and is targeted, and in my heart rejoices.
I alone in this remote paths
part in the coming campaign, every pleasure and play

delay in another time and in the meantime I look at the spread in the air
aprica
me the beasts that Sol between distant mountains, the day after
peaceful,
falling vanishes, and seems to say that the blessed youth
faints.

You, solitary little bird, come to
evening of live that will give you the stars,
sure your costume will not
Dorrao; that nature is the result of all your
vagueness.
To me, if you hated the threshold of old age

avoid not implore,
silent when these eyes another's heart, and their
FIA vote, the world, and the future of
to present more dull and dreary, that seem
of this desire?
that these years of mine? that of myself?
pentirommi ahi, and often, but sadly
, volgerommi back.

Poem written in 1831. Comparison between the poet and the Sparrow, both alone, but in a different way

Giacomo Leopardi (Recanati, June 29, 1798 - Naples, June 14, 1837)

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Martino - Carducci

The fog gl'irti packages
drizzling salt
And under the mistral
Screams and whitens the sea;
But the streets of the village from bubbling
de 'tini
It is the bitter odor of wines
soul to cheer.
Turn on 'strains lit
The spit and sputtered: He's a hunter

whistling on the door to gaze
Among the reddish clouds
Flocks of birds blacks,
Com'esuli thoughts
In twilight migrate

poetry collection New Poems (1861-1887), perhaps inspired by a poem by Ippolito Nievo (Padua, November 30, 1831 - Mar Tirreno, March 4, 1861)

Carducci (Valdicastello, July 27, 1835 - Bologna , February 16, 1907)

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So gentle and so Onesta Pare - Dante Alighieri

So gentle and so honest it seems
my lady, when she greets others, that every language
Deven, trembling, silent, and eyes
no 's dare to look.

She goes, praise, feeling, clothed with humility
benignly,
and seems to be something coming
miracle from heaven to earth to show.

Mostrasi so attractive to those who aim for the eyes
which gives a sweetness to the core, which
'ntender not the people who can not proof;

and seems to be moved from his lip
a gentle spirit, full of love,

that is saying to the soul: "She sighs."

Poetry (Sonnet) dedicated to Beatrice, taken from the "New Life" (1292-1293)

Dante Alighieri (Florence, 1265 - Ravenna, September 13, 1321)

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I saw the eyes where Love began - Guido Cavalcanti

I saw the eyes where Love began when
made me fearful of himself,
looking at me as I was boring:
then say that 'the heart of foreign currency;

and were it not that the woman laughed,
the 'talk of such a sorrowful way, it would
that Love selfsame angry mood
which made' the image I conquered.

moved a spirit from heaven, at that point that the woman I
worth watching, and Vennes
to rest in my care:

me he has one of the true love, her power to see that every
I think
it as I had come into his heart.

Guido Cavalcanti (about 1255 - August 29, 1300)