Many of her memorable works are collected in Tutte le poesie di Nina Guerrizio (Edizione Lampo, Campobasso, 1990), which includes such prior volumes as, Sciure de carde from 1956 (Campobasso, Edizioni Pungolo Verde) and Pagliare ‘e fantasie from 1959 (Pescara, Dimensioni). She also edited the volume Sonetti molisani by Giuseppe Altobello (Campobasso, 1966, later reprinted in 1982). Some years after her death, after being known for her work on other Molisan writers, Guerrizio was rediscovered properly in her own right and her works have been included in various anthologies and the Università di Roma-Tor Vergata has cultivated her work and recorded readings of her poems. Notably for a foreign audience, she was included in the bilingual Poesia Dialettale del Molise: Testi e Critica, edited by Luigi Bonaffini, Giambattista Faralli and Sebastiano Martelli (Cosmo Marinelli Editore, Isernia, 1993).
Lu core noustre
Lu core noustre è cumme nu setacce
che cerne cerne e nen ze stanca maje:
cerne le cose belle e cerne guaje,
le lusinghe ‘e la vita e le menacce.
Cerne lu tiempe, inzomma: cerne l’ora.
E, cumme la farina, quanne passa,
lassa addrete la vrenna, nen ma’ passa
chelle che ce fa rire’ o ci addulora.
Remane ent’a le chieche du le core:
a botte ‘e spille, chiane, lu nfrullisce,
ne fa a la fine nu capulavore: nu furziere capace ‘e fa’ tasore
de chelle che a stu munne ci culpisce,
de fa’ d’u chiumme na pepita d’ore.
Our Heart
Our heart is like a sieve
that sifts and sifts and never grows tired:
it sifts beautiful things and woes,
the flattery of life and threats.
It sifts time, in short: it sifts the hours.
And, like the flour, when it passes,
it leaves behind the bran, that which
makes us happy or pains us never passes.
It remains in the folds of the heart:
slowly, by pin pricks, it dry ages it,
in the end it makes a masterpiece of it: a coffer able to make a treasure
of that which in this world strikes us,
to make from lead a nugget of gold.
Pagliare ‘e fantasie
Lame de luce fàucene la notte
e cresce nu pagliare ‘e fantasie:
pe mmieze a chella paglia a file a file
ore va a retruvà l’anema mia.
(N’ome mpazzisce là pe la campagna
mbriache ‘e viente e de cinciune: a ‘u scure
ze fa castielle mo na massaria;
ghianca svota la via….E torna l’ombra).
Stelle cadute e fuoche de restoccia
ardene ancora ncima a la cullina
fratta de luce tra la terra e ‘u ciele.
Stelle che ntienne forza pe fa’ lume…
Suonne ch’hanne paura a piglià vita…
Vuce, e nen siente suone de parole…
Speranze morte che sule ent’u core
resonene. E retruove
luce vita parole.
Haystack of Fantasies
Blades of light are scything the night
and a haystack of fantasies grows:
amid that straw blade by blade
my soul goes seeking gold.
(There through the countryside a man is going crazy,
drunk with wind and rags: in the dark
now a farmhouse becomes a castle;
the road turns white…And the shadow returns).
Fallen stars and replanting fires
still burn atop the hill
a hedge of light between the earth and the sky.
Stars that don’t have the strength to shed light…
Dreams which are afraid to take life….
Voices, and you don’t hear the sound of words…
Dead hopes which only in the heart
resonate. And you find again
light life words.
*Translation and biographical information by Cav. Charles Sant’Elia
