When I was a student at the classical high school in Enna, while I was studying ‘Romanticism’, I came across the very popular Italian poet Giacomo Leopardi (Recanati, 29 June 1798 – Naples, 14 June 1837).
He was the poet I loved most, perhaps because he had a nature similar to mine. He loved study and solitude. He wrote his poems at a young age, when he had inspiration. Later, his poetic inspiration dried up and he did not write poems until almost the end of his young life.
Due to sitting and studying too long, he ruined his bone structure and health. He became a hunchback.
I have always wished to visit his hometown of Recanati that inspired his poems. Finally, the opportunity to make a short stop in Recanati came during our return journey from Konnersreuth (Germany) to Enna.
As soon as I arrived in town, the majesty of his stately house stunned me. I had never seen such a large noble palace. Obviously,Giacomo belonged to a very rich family. At the time, the rich had a great advantage over the poor. The former had books and libraries at their disposal to educate themselves; the latter had the urgent need to earn a living and therefore could not raise their spirit through culture.
We walked along the streets of Recanati until we reached the hillock that had inspired one of his most beautiful poems, ‘L’infinito‘ (The infinite). I would have liked to translate it into English, but after a first attempt, I gave up. I was afraid of misrepresenting the thought and the heart of the great Giacomo. Therefore, I will report it below in the original Italian language, with the hope that the vibrations of the words in the poem will reach the hearts of those who read it.
L’INFINITO
Sempre caro mi fu quest’ermo colle,
e questa siepe, che da tanta parte
dell’ultimo orizzonte il guardo esclude.
Ma sedendo e mirando, interminati
spazi di là da quella, e sovrumani
silenzi, e profondissima quïete
io nel pensier mi fingo, ove per poco
il cor non si spaura. E come il vento
odo stormir tra queste piante, io quello
infinito silenzio a questa voce
vo comparando: e mi sovvien l’eterno,
e le morte stagioni, e la presente
e viva, e il suon di lei. Così tra questa
immensità s’annega il pensier mio:
e il naufragar m’è dolce in questo mare.
Giacomo Leopardi
Ettore Grillo, author of these books:
– November 2: The Day of the Dead in Sicily (English edition)
– A Hidden Sicilian History (English edition)
– The Vibrations of Words (English edition)
– Travels of the Mind (English edition)
– Una Storia Siciliana Nascosta (edizione in lingua italiana)
– Viaggi della Mente (edizione in lingua italiana)
Ettore Grillo's Blog and Books 