Attilio Zanichelli (Italy)

Attilio Zanichelli (Italy)
He was one of the minor poets of the 1900s, the story of the worker poet,as he was nicknamed, he who was a friend of great poet and philosopher Franco Fortini, whose poems were also published by Einaudi, is attracting new studies.
In the first collection, now out of press there are echoes of war, there is the despair for the lost companions, but there is already his poetics of small things and attention to nature, to the greatness of creation, to the sublime precisely.
He was born in Sorvolo in 1931 and died in Parma on 11th July, in 1994
He studied the piano privately with Maestro Malpeli, but then the death of his father prevented him from continuing his studies. So he gave up his career as a musician and devoted himself to poetry: he wrote and composed music: only a mass for Don Marocchi, then he played in the church of Steccata di Parma.
He published three books of poetry during his life: Sentimento d’oceani, Milan, Gastaldi, 1953; Giù fino al cielo (1973, with a preface by Attilio Bertolucci, Guanda) and Una cosa sublime (1982, Einaudi, this work was desired and published by Franco Fortini). Zanichelli also wrote plays, short stories, short novels and collections of poems, including – Orsa minore, inserted in the Einaudi anthology “Nuovi poeti”, 1980 (edited by Franco Fortini, Emilio Faccioli, Paolo Fossati, Natalia Ginzburg, Camillo Pennati , Marco Vallora). In 1981 he was included in the anthological volume New Italian Poets edited by Einaudi. He worked for years as a mechanic at Bormioli in Parma. SOURCES AND BIBL .: G.Conti, in Qui 27 1995, 29; Gazzetta di Parma 29 June 1997 , 5.
Two unpublished collections will be published posthumously shortly, by his nephew Alessio Zanichelli.
Brechtiana, poems written between the sixties and the seventies (1965-1970)
Contrappunti, poems written in the 1990s (1990-1992)
Autumn crowns me
Of a leaf mantle silence.
Of color that I do not see.
Of humidity I perceive.
My body trembling from the cold.
My blood groaning.
Published in italian language in Sentimento di oceani -1953
translated by Claudia Piccinno
One morning
In the morning, sitting on the subtle
herbs of the field, with my thoughts I swung
vaguely looking for me, or like someone who has fallen
hesitates at the thrill of this instant. Sure passed out
with low arms and praying for a God
who is silent about hell over the world,
I was.
To Franco Fortini
Zanichelli was a friend of Fortini, to whom the next poem is dedicated
You’ve got better, you tanned in the furrow
before and after.
We are losers from an escape on which it still zooms.
Barren nameless bones
dropped into the party
we disappear into the hole of history.
A hundred years before being born,
alone as we have been, they will abandon us.
It’s not important
It is not important that the first light is called calm
the same light that wakes us from the backpack
of the time as an ancestor.
He has never lost his cold features, neither once.
At the start in front of the monument of his peace
he arrives.
We have now lost it.
The last two poems are published into italian language in
Una cosa sublime, Einaudi
Translated into English by Claudia Piccinno

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