Journal of Italian Translation - Brooklyn College - Academic Home ...

Charles Sant’Elia / Luciano Somma
of the verse, the relationship – today more than ever unctuous and
fleeting – with the orality of the feeling, with the story. And it is
rightly through the story that Luciano gathers here almost all of
his people (“A Penzione,” “Roccamonfina,” etc…) [“The Pension,”
“Roccamonfina,” etc.], strong with a thick and almost stubborn
realism, often nourished with live images, full-bodied, however
always carved on the background of feelings, saturated, overflowing,
at times even unthinkably engaging – from the sadness of love
(Mo ca tra nuje, / ce ne stammo accurgenno / juorno pe’ ghiuorno, / è
addeventata cennere / l’estate / e fa paura / ‘a maschera ‘e ll’autunno!)
[Now that between us/ we are realizing/ day by day/ the summer/ has
become ash/ and the mask of autumn/ is frightening!] to the melancholy
of moments that march past threadbare over time (... E guardo ‘o
mare / ‘nnanze all’uocchie / ‘a tristezza / ‘e na pioggia d’autunno) […
And I watch the sea/ before my eyes/ the sadness/ of an autumn rain]
to true and proper tense and penetrating lyrical impulses (and I
immediately think of the memorable verses of “L’artista” [“The
Artist”]), at times with gloomy and overshadowed tones (“è arrossata
pure l’acqua santa”) [“even the holy water is tinged red”] – often
almost without an inkling of calming down, the margins of starting
over, of almost an absence of God – on the other hand, at times of
decidedly more luminous and comforting tones of an imminent
redemption, both divine and material (and I think of the plays on
words, of the arguments plotted by the rhymes, and so on).
So why comment on Luciano’s poems?
“Core marenaro,” “Faccella nera,” “Munno artificiale” [“Sailor
Heart,” “Little Black Face,” “Artifical World”] – all poems that in
my opinion one must just read – be it for the refined and supple
dialect that dances about them, be it for the adolescent grace of
the sounds – or finally be it for the THE UNIVERSALITY OF THE
CONCLUSION – that open heart, that is, in the presence of the rest
, the root of pure poetry.
Emiliano Cribari
67