 |
| A friend found a four-leaf clover |
I’m sure that some of you will be wondering why an ethnocentric Southern Italian blog would have a post on what is generally considered by many to be “Irish Day,” but if you follow the content of this blog you will see that we also support ethnic identity throughout Europe as an extension of our own philosophy. In addition to our solidarity with other European Identitarians, the history of the Irish has some surprising similarities to the plight of Southern Italy. Ireland itself has interested many artists and intellectuals, including Salvatore Quasimodo, a celebrated poet laureate from Modica, Sicily. The following is one of his poems that was inspired by his time on the Emerald Isle.
Glendalough
Under Celtic crosses the dead
of Glendalough look out
from a mountain of clouds.
They evade Spring, listening
to the downpour and the crows
that fly with westerly words.
The dead are friends of the gorges,
companions of the sea
that a little further on bends
with storms and traps the waves
alongside the moon. Names speak
of alarm, disenchanted thunder.
Near a stream, under the sun,
neither storm nor midday sunset.
Only the one crow in the sky
calling about a woman
who died of love inside the funnel-
shaped roof of Kevin’s hideaway.
For a fascinating comparison of Ireland and Sicily, please visit Feile-Festa.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day!
Happy St. Patrick’s Day!
* Glendalough was reprinted from The Night Fountain: Selected Early Poems of Salvatore Quasimodo, translated by Marco Sonzogni & Gerald Dawe, Arc Publications, 2008.
