Inspired by Cav. Charles Sant'Elia's Meridiunalata/Southernade,* an evocative bilingual (Neapolitan/English) collection of poetry written between 1989 and 2010, we offer the reader an accessible introduction to vernacular (Neapolitan, Sicilian, et al.) verse with the aim of awakening enthusiasm for contemporary and historical poesia Duosiciliano.
In this installment we're featuring the poetry of Achille Curcio
Achille Curcio was born 26 May 1930 in Borgia (province of Catanzaro), where his father was county secretary, before moving to nearby Montauro, on the Ionian side of the province of Catanzaro. He became a school teacher in Catanzaro in the elementary school system, and then spent 40 years teaching in a juvenile detention center there. He began writing very young and chose to write in his native Calabrese dialect. He collaborated with various dailies and magazines. After the publication of his collections Lampari (1970) and Hjumara (1974), his home in Catanzaro and his other home on the Ionian Sea in Calalunga, became meeting places for many leading 20th century figures including Bigongiari, Bonea, Del Pino, Campus, Raul Maria De Angelis, Buttitta and Gerhard Rohlfs. In the mid 1970’s Curcio began a constant effort to bolster Calabrese poetry and he held readings of his work in various cities around Calabria, as well as in Florence, Zurich and Berne, and later in the 1990’s in Canada and Australia as well.
After publishing his personal collection in 1975, Visioni del Sud, which gained him a vaster readership, and his 1983 book Chi canti, chi cunti? he wrote a series of satires, an important collection of Calabrese proverbs, and a collection of short stories, L’eremita di Sant’Anna (1984). Curcio published two further collections of poetry, ’A vertula d’o poeta (1991) and ’U poeta non rida (2005), followed by works centered on the rediscovery and memory of his native land (’U morzeddhu, 2007, and La mia Cantanzaro, 2010). In addition to being translated into Hungarian (L’unda mi cunta/Hullámok dala, 2007), two conventions on dialect poetry were dedicated to him: 1981, La poesia dialettale del Novecento (in Catanzaro, with Ignazio Buttita), and in 2006, Il dialetto come lingua della poesia (in Trieste, with Franco Loi and younger generation poets). His work appeared in many anthologies, including Le parole di legno. Poesia in dialetto del ‘900 italiano, edited by M. Chiesa and G. Tesio (Mondadori, 1984). Luigi Tassoni wrote a critical monograph on Curcio, Lezione di poesia. Il dialetto contemporaneo di Achille Curcio (Bologna, Archetipolibri 2010). In March 2010 the University of Pécs dedicated an international seminar on poetry readings to Curcio, when Pécs was the European Culture Capital. On 26 May 2010, for his 80th birthday, the city of Catanzaro held a day of studies and presentations, and the mayor gave him the keys to the city. For his 85th birthday the MARCA museum of Catanzaro dedicated the La poesia che pensa event under the direction of Rocco Guglielmo and Luigi Tassoni.
HjumaraDe tutti li jochi chi fici guagliuna
non resta cchiù nenta nte chista sirata;
eppuru sti strati, stu vecchiu portuna
mi furu cumpagni nte chiddha jornata,
chi tuttu era jocu, chi tuttu era cantu
si u celu mustrava d’azzurru nu mantu.
De tutti i speranzi cuvati nt’o cora
non resta na scagghia cà tuttu spariu;
chist’anima trema videndu cà fora
na negghia passandu stu celu tingiu
e tuttu cumpara de niru velatu
stu mara, stu sula, stu nundu cangiatu.
Nte chista sirata domandu a lu ventu
duva iddhu portau la mia giovinezza;
e duva mo porta stu caru lamentu
de st’anima nira, cchiù nira ‘e na pezza.
Lu ventu respunda cà tuttu scumpara,
cà resta la vita na vera hjumara.
Hjumara chi porta luntanu l’affanni
d’o riccu signora, d’o peju sciancatu
li belli jornati, l’amuri e li nganni,
speranzi, suspire, nu sonnu spezzatu.
Hjumara maligna chi tuttu trascina
e poi cu nu vuddhu ti scriva la fina.
River
By Achille Curcio (1974)
Translated by Cav. Charles Sant’Elia
Of all the games I played as a child
Nothing is left in these evenings;
Even these streets, this old great doorway
Were my companions in those days,
When all was a game, when all was song
If the sky shown itself as a blue mantle.
Of all the hopes lodged in my heart
There is left not a splinter, for all disappeared;
This soul trembles seeing that outside
A passing fog stained this sky
And all appears veiled in black
This sea, this sun, this changed world.
In this evening I ask the wind
where he brought my youth;
and where he now brings this dear lament
of this blackened soul, blacker than a rag.
The wind responds that all disappears,
that life remains a true river.
River that brings afar the grief
of the rich lord, of the worst off beggar
the beautiful days, love and deceits,
hopes, sighs, a shattered dream.
Evil river that drags everything
And then with an eddy writes your end.
* Self-published in 2010, Meridiunalata/Southernade is a treasury of poems gleaned from Cav. Sant'Elia's previous collections (Nchiuso dint''o presente, 'A cuntrora, and 'O pino e l'éllera), which were circulated among friends in New York City and Naples. Special thanks to Cav. Sant'Elia for allowing us to reprint his poetry and translations.
