Get a site

city

Cesare Pavese – Canzone di strada / Street song

Martin Rico y Ortega, San Lorenzo River with the Campanile of San Giorgio dei greci, Venice, c. 1900 Why be ashamed? When one has done time,if they let one out, it’s because like everybody elsewho belongs to the streets, one has been in prison. From morning till evening we wander the avenueswhether it’s raining or …

Cesare Pavese – Canzone di strada / Street song Read More »

Allen Ginsberg – A supermarket in California

Sigmar Polke, Supermarkets!, 1976 What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for I walked down the sidestreets under the trees with a headache self-conscious looking at the full moon.In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went into the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations!What peaches and what penumbras! Whole families …

Allen Ginsberg – A supermarket in California Read More »

Diane Wakoski – Il padre del mio paese / The Father of My Country

Thomas Alexander Ferguson Graham, Alone in London, 1904 My father was not in the telephone bookin my city;my father was not sleeping with my motherat home;my father did not care if I studied thepiano;my father did not care whatI did;and I thought my father was handsome and I loved him and I wonderedwhyhe left me …

Diane Wakoski – Il padre del mio paese / The Father of My Country Read More »

Ardengo Soffici – Via

Serafino Macchiati, After the Gala, 1905 Palazzeschi eravamo in tre,noi due e l’amara ironia,a braccetto per quella viacosì nostra alle ventitre.Il nome, chi lo ricorda?Dalle parti di San Gervasio;Silvio Pellico o Metastasio;c’era sull’angolo in blu.Mi ricordo però del resto:l’ombra d’oro sulle facciate,qualche raggio nelle vetrate;agiatezza e onorabilità.Tutto nuovo, le lastre azzurredel marciapiede annaffiato,le persiane verdi, …

Ardengo Soffici – Via Read More »

Charles Cros – Vitaiolo

Ford Madox Brown, The work, c. 1865 Dopo aver vuotato tutte le coppe, tutte!Alla fine devo rientrare; perché le mie fibre dissolte,nei caffè rumorosi, frequentati da sgualdrine,hanno freddo nella notte pesante e negli incerti mattini.Camminiamo. Ecco già brulicare la gente dei mercati.Arrossisco, ortolani, nel vedervi, i grembiuli sporchi,rinfrescati dall’odore lontano degli aratri.Lavoratori, ignari dei malsani …

Charles Cros – Vitaiolo Read More »