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Reading Library Rome show Vallicelliana
audio editing video editing Gabriele Petrella
thank Bruno Conti curator of the correspondence A Journey Called Love, Letters 1916-1918, published by Feltrinelli present during a lecture-show in Rome for appreciating rehabilitation.
E Gabriel Millet Chaco Argentine biographer and scholar of Dino Campana. * (1)
quote here excerpts of the memoirs of Frederick Ravagli , man of his time with goliards of Campana in his youth transition to Bologna, where the first verses of Dino find refuge in the journal The Papyrus of Ravagli and companions. Fate has it that the love for this poet I did meet one of his daughters, Victoria Ravagli woman rare soul and beauty as rare and very much alive, thanks to her reading / performance takes on a tone and a different color. As if a thread bind
crossed our tribute to a great poet. The live wire of poetry and life of Bell.
Dale Zaccaria
Sub in Bell
I come to look for, Bell, it 'my memories.
And if I turn to you here, as before, as if you were still alive,
is because the memory needs to be in a special state of grace, needs a strong emotional stimulus to dispel the fog thickened over the years away a turbulent succession of events.
Listen, then. And do not blame me if after my return from Africa I did not want to see you.
M'avevan told you that he was alive only body and your spirit was shipwrecked, hopeless, dreary darkness of a stormy night tragic.
I have not had the courage to follow closely your martyrdom, as I was powerless to soccorerrerti. I would not watch a single moment epilogue your terrible experience: not to meditate too long in an absurd destiny that nailed shelter alienated a man like you, that I had room for land and ocean, hoping to boundless horizons.
We were left in Bologna, where they already began to take shape, clear signs, the success of your book: of those songs that we Orphic goliards we held a little on the sheets from our baptism scapigliatura, including songs and rhymes friendly of love.
And we should not see each other anymore.
Well, thirty years 'after your official entry into the life of the "bohemian" university, I wanted to collect some' memories. I came back in mind and the minds of our time away: at that time of my reckless youth and tumultuous, when you, a veteran who knows what mysterious rugged adventures, you brought with us, with your fee as a beggar, the spirit of your royal ocean views.
No one knew, then, to all those writers who then decreed t'han triumph. You were an unknown: it was a strange man and dreamy, a restless wanderer came to a stop along the road: you were an eccentric student of chemistry laboratory had chosen the world's roads. Certainly would not have ended your trip with an analysis of staff, you, accustomed to the transitions and vertiginous lyrical synthesis of vibrating cosmic fantasies.
But you stopped it with us.
(...) So you lived a little of our lives. We were Notes to our illusions, our worries, our antics. You were witness of a benevolent and unconcerned with sympathetic sequala rascality.
the tables in front of our instant meetings, browse, with superb aplomb, poets and philosophers, public figures and walkers. The criticism was often biting and biting. And you adattasti often to listen to arguments and invective, acts of faith and eulogies, the indulgent ramblings and cries.
And so, at night, for starde narrow, brown under the arches and severe, pei winding streets and conducive to tighten the secret of our bizarre excesses. And you still with us docile meek quiet.
you went "with a little singing with a lot of wine." And we were singing for you. Sometimes lingered suddenly stop for a while, we followed at a distance, to be alone. Who knows? Maybe you went meditating, in your silence, textures, art and poetry. Under the arcades of the architectural ocheggianti venerable age, within the halls of hospitality sensual numbed wits fat ones, in games of shadow and light, plastic living creatures and things, you certainly saw that escaped our attention: you listened agreements, dissonances sound alerts that we could not reach us. Many pages of 'Your songs are born from this wandering Orphic
(...) But you were a rebel to the laws of a quiet life, to the customs of the people bucket, the wise counsel of wise people. You were homeless because followed a shocking your dream of infinity. You were a stateless person, because the poetry of which he was desperately in quest of a national world: you, for the world to bring the "scale of the working poor Italian ... do not know." Your legend is here. And some saran these simple memories of our time away to shed some light on the desperate drama of your adventure.
Legend is mystery and poetry and the mystery of your life was poetry.
Federico Ravagli , Dino Campana and university boys of his time (1911 -1914) Autographs and documents. Confessions and memories - Bologna: Clueb 2002.
* (1) Bruno Conti
Gabriel Chaco Millet In the dedication of Dino Campana to Sibilla copy of the Orphic chants Bell wrote in his own hand four lyrics (...) also appear throughout the text corrections and cessature. For a critical analysis of this copy dedicated all'Aleramo cf. D. Bell, a Souvenir d'pendu, edited by G. Cacho Millet, Oxford University Italian, Naples 1985, p. 193. Facsimile reproduction of the copy is in G. Cacho Millet, Dino Campana outlaws, Novecento, Palermo 1985, Appendix iconography, from n.39 to n.49. See Sibilla Dino Campana A Journey Called Love Letters 1916 -1918 by Bruno Conti, Feltrinelli 2002 (eighth edition)
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