{"id":950,"date":"2011-09-20T13:29:25","date_gmt":"2011-09-20T13:29:25","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/italian\/?p=950"},"modified":"2011-09-26T15:08:35","modified_gmt":"2011-09-26T15:08:35","slug":"i-pastori-di-gabriele-dannunzio","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/italian\/i-pastori-di-gabriele-dannunzio\/","title":{"rendered":"I Pastori di Gabriele d’Annunzio"},"content":{"rendered":"

Yesterday it rained and rained all day and all night. This morning there is a new freshness in the air, and with it the feeling that the summer is drawing to an end. The seasonal change reminds me of a poem by Gabriele d\u2019Annunzio entitled I Pastori <\/strong>(The Shepherds). <\/p>\n

Gabriele d\u2019Annunzio was born in Pescara (Abruzzi) in 1863. He was a poet, novelist, journalist, play writer, patriot, trend setter, and much more. He had many nicknames, amongst which was l\u2019Imaginifico <\/strong>(The Creator of Imagery) due to his particular writing style which mixed together lesser known words such as verga<\/strong> instead of the more common bastone =<\/strong> stick, with words from dialect such as avellano<\/strong> instead of nocciolo<\/strong> = hazelnut. He twisted and created new words (such as erbal <\/strong>from erba = <\/strong>grass), and made use of numerous similes.<\/p>\n

In this poem d\u2019Annuzio (who by the time that he wrote it had moved to the north of Italy where he died in 1938) describes, with a sense of nostalgia, the seasonal migration of the Abruzzesi<\/strong> shepherds from the summer Alpine meadows down to the winter pastures on the coast of the Adriatic sea. I Pastori<\/strong> was published in 1903 in Alcyone<\/strong>, a collection of verses written between 1899 and 1903.<\/p>\n

I Pastori<\/u><\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Settembre, andiamo. \u00c8 tempo di migrare.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Ora in terra d\u2019Abruzzi i miei pastori<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

lascian gli stazzi e vanno verso il mare:<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

scendono all\u2019Adriatico selvaggio<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

che verde \u00e8 come i pascoli dei monti.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Han bevuto profondamente ai fonti<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

alpestri, che sapor d\u2019acqua natia<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

rimanga ne\u2019 cuori esuli a conforto<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

che lungo illuda la lor sete in via.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Rinnovato hanno verga d\u2019avellano.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

E vanno pel tratturo antico al piano,<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

quasi per un erbal fiume silente<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

su le vestigia degli antichi padri.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

O voce di colui che primamente<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

conosce il tremolar della marina!<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Ora lungh\u2019esso il litoral cammina<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

la greggia. Senza mutamento \u00e8 l\u2019aria.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Il sole imbionda s\u00ec la viva lana<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

che quasi dalla sabbia non divaria.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Isciacquio, calpestio, dolci rumori.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Ah perch\u00e9 non son io co\u2019 miei pastori?<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

The Shepherds<\/u><\/em><\/p>\n

September, let\u2019s go. It\u2019s time to migrate.<\/em><\/p>\n

Now in the land of Abruzzi my shepherds<\/em><\/p>\n

leave the folds and go towards the sea:<\/em><\/p>\n

they go down to the wild Adriatic<\/em><\/p>\n

that is green like mountain pastures.<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/p>\n

They\u2019ve drunk deeply from the Alpine fonts,<\/em><\/p>\n

so that the taste of their native water<\/em><\/p>\n

may stay in their exiled hearts for comfort<\/em><\/p>\n

to deceive their thirst along the way.<\/em><\/p>\n

They\u2019ve renewed their hazelnut sticks.<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/p>\n

And they go along the ancient bridleway,<\/em><\/p>\n

that is almost like a silent grassy river<\/em><\/p>\n

in the traces of the ancient ancestors.<\/em><\/p>\n

Oh voice of the one who first<\/em><\/p>\n

discerns the shimmering of the sea!<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/p>\n

Now along this coast moves the flock.<\/em><\/p>\n

Without movement is the air.<\/em><\/p>\n

The sun bleaches the living wool so that<\/em><\/p>\n

it almost blends into the sand.<\/em><\/p>\n

Swishing, stamping, sweet sounds.<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/p>\n

Ah why am I not with my shepherds?<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Yesterday it rained and rained all day and all night. This morning there is a new freshness in the air, and with it the feeling that the summer is drawing to an end. The seasonal change reminds me of a poem by Gabriele d\u2019Annunzio entitled I Pastori (The Shepherds). Gabriele d\u2019Annunzio was born in Pescara…<\/p>\n

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