A few days ago, browsing through one of my grammar books, I came across a poem that I had to learn when I was at school. I was really pleased to rediscover it because I used to like it a lot, and I must say that rereading it hasn’t disappointed me, it still paints an evocative little picture. The poem is Rio Bò, and was written by Aldo Palazzeschi (Firenze 1885 – Roma 1974).

Aldo Palazzeschi is the ‘nom de plume’ (pen name) of Aldo Giurlani. His father, who was a merchant, wanted him to become an accountant and didn’t like the idea of his son becoming an artist under the family name. In 1905 Aldo published his first collection of poems at his own expense, using an imaginary publisher, Cesare Blanc, which in reality was the name of his cat. Rio Bò was published in 1909 in his third collection of poems, Poemi, which was well received by both critics and the public, and established him as one the most important Italian poets of the Twentieth century.

Rio Bò is the name of both the river and the microscopic village depicted in the poem, it’s an imaginary and yet believable place. Here everything is small (casettine ‘little houses’, praticello ‘small meadow’, esiguo ‘thin’), a nothingness (da nulla ‘of nothing’), but at the same time great and magnificent. This sense of playfulness, almost like a fairy tale, is common to much of Palazzeschi’s poetry and prose.

Here’s the poem with my English translation:

Rio Bò

Tre casettine
dai tetti aguzzi,
un verde praticello,
un esiguo ruscello: Rio Bò,
un vigile cipresso.
Microscopico paese, non è vero?
paese da nulla, ma però,
c’è sempre di sopra una stella,
una grande magnifica stella.
Occhieggia con la punta del cipresso
di Rio Bò.
Una stella innamorata! Chi sa
se nemmeno ce l’ha
una grande città.

Rio Bò

Three little houses
with pointed roofs,
a small green meadow,
a thin stream: Rio Bò,
a watchful cypress.
Microscopic village, isn’t it true?
a village of nothing, but nevertheless,
above it there is always a star,
a great magnificent star.
It winks to the tip of the cypress
of Rio Bò.
A star in love! Who knows
if not even
a big city has one.

P.S. I used to love that phrase ‘ma però’ in the middle of the poem because it’s not grammatically correct, and therefore we weren’t allowed to use it. ‘Ma però’ is in fact a repetition, a bit like saying ‘but however’, but it’s very emphatic, and children tend to use it instinctively. Seeing it there, in a poem written by a grownup, gave me a great sense of satisfaction.