Leggi l`articolo (free!)

NOTE E RASSEGNE
LIBERO BIGIARETTI'S POSTO DI BLOCCO
AND ITS ENGLISH TRANSLATION*
Like many Italian authors, Libero Bigiaretti is virtually unknown to the
English-speaking reader. The reason is quite simple. While many of
his works have been translated into French, German, Spanish and
Russian, regrettably, only one novel, Il congresso (The Convention), has
appeared in English. As a result, I was delighted to see — and review
— this English translation of Bigiaretti's latest collection of poems,
Posto di Blocco (Checkpoint), originally published in 1986 (AnconaBologna: Il Lavoro Editoriale).
While he is perhaps best known for his prose works, during the
past decade Bigiaretti has devoted himself primarily — but not
exclusively — to poetry. Interestingly, Bigiaretti made his literary
debut in the 1930s as a poet before becoming one of Italy's more
prominent novelists of the postwar period. Thus his return to the poetic
forms with which he began his career more than a half century ago is
both fitting and significant. As a more personal and immediate mode,
poetry seems to be Bigiaretti's preferred form of expression during this
final stage of his career. Unlike the linear discursivity of narrative,
poetry provides him with the means to carry out both an introspective
and retrospective examination of certain aspects of his life. In the
1980s alone he published, in addition to a collection of short stories and
a novel, Il viaggiatore, five major works of poetry: A memoria d'uomo
(1982), Epigrammi, Proverbi e altre inezie (1984), Un osso duro
(1985), Posto di blocco (1986), and Lettera a Valeria (1988). And
despite his age (born in 1905), we have probably not seen the last of
this unflagging octogenarian's literary output. The bilingual edition of
Posto di blocco/ Checkpoint. Poems of Death and Old Age (1991),
35
prepared and translated by Gabriele Erasmi and Gerald Chappie, should
appeal to a wide variety of readers. It has something to offer both the
academics and those who simply read for "le plaisir du texte" (to
borrow one of Barthes' titles). It is particularly useful to those readers
— not just English-speaking — less familiar with Bigiaretti's work for,
in addition to the lyrics, the volume contains fourteen drawings by the
author (who had initially set out to become a painter), photographs of
Bigiaretti with other noted writers such as Pavese and Ungaretti, a list
of Bigiaretti's publications, a brief but detailed biography and some
very informative explanatory notes, which are not provided for all
poems, only for those containing more unfamiliar references and
allusions. Unfortunately, the editors did not include a selected critical
bibliography on Bigiaretti and his works. To compensate, there is an
extremely well-written introduction ("A Celebration of Life: Libero
Bigiaretti's Checkpoint") by Gabriele Erasmi, which reveals a profound
understanding not only of the entire body of Bigiaietti's work, but also
of the man himself. Concise yet comprehensive, Erasmi's insightful
essay demonstrates how literature has been the means as well as the
expression of Bigiaretti's lifelong search for truth. As his latest work
of poetry, Posto di blocco (Checkpoint) continues and, at the same time,
terminates the search.
Checkpoint is divided into two major sections.
The first,
"Overtime" ("Tempi supplementari"), comprises fifty short poems
written between 1980 and 1986, while the second part consists of thirtyfour "Epigrams" ("Epigrammi") mostly written between 1978 and 1982.
In addition, the translators, Erasmi and Chappie, have added the poem
"A Letter to Valeria" and the short article "A Guide to Old Age"
("Guida alla vecchiaia"), both of which were written after the original
Italian publication of Posto di blocco. For reasons of chronology and
thematics, these two works have been placed at the end of the book.
"Guida alla vecchiaia," published in 1989 and awarded the De Senectute
Prize, is a penetrating account of the existential condition of the elderly
and develops many of the ideas contained in Bigiaretti's poetry.
Although old age is generally regarded as a stage "when the pleasures
of the senses are gone or at least severely diminished," Bigiaretti asserts
that it is an age when one "can still fall in love and be loved in turn"
and when "one can still keep up an interest in sports or maintain one's
creativity through the stimulus of art" (p. 191). Written in 1988, one
month after the premature death of Bigiaretti's only and much loved
1
36
2
daughter, "Lettera a Valeria" is, in the words of the translators, "a
moving poem that coherently befits and tragically completes the stoic
vision of life and death Bigiaretti presents in Checkpoint and [...]
provides a proper and poignant conclusion" (p. 210). Indeed, Erasmi
and Chappie could not have chosen two more appropriate pieces with
which to close their volume.
As the English subtitle indicates, Checkpoint contains "poems of
death and old age." But they are not what one might expect. Bigiaretti
does not look at old age and death with excessive sentimentality or
bitter pessimism. Nor does he lapse into cliché by lamenting the
passing of time and the frailty of life. Instead, Bigiaretti examines these
questions from a new and refreshing perspective. He has already
accepted and overcome the limitations of old age and the fact that it is
"a tough bone" to chew (the title of one of his poems, "Un osso duro").
As Bigiaretti writes in "Adesso so" ("Now I Know"), he has taken his
share, and after a long full life he leaves behind no regrets:
Adesso so che ho avuto
quanto di mia spettanza:
il mio vino ho bevuto,
manco un sorso ne avanza.
[Now I know that I got
all that was mine to have.
I've drunk up my wine,
not a drop is left.]
And so, rather than dwell on such problems as the deterioration of the
faculties or the sense of alienation and impotence felt by the elderly,
Bigiaretti seems to favour the less serious side of aging. Growing old
— he points out in "Non è male" ("Not a Bad Thing") — does not have
to be entirely dismal. On the contrary, it can be a very liberating
experience:
Non è male invecchiare.
Si ottiene la dispensa
dall'obbligo di fare,
di fingere efficenza.
[Growing old is not so bad:
You get a dispensation
37
from the dreary obligation
to be or seem efficient.]
As seen in the above example, Bigiaretti's language is refreshingly
simple and straightforward, and his poems are entertaining and quite
often humorous. At times, it is a biting humour which pokes fun at not
only the hypocrisy of social norms and conditions, but also the poet's
own inadequacies. Perhaps the best example of his wit and humour is
the delightful composition "Calcio" ("Soccer"), neatly structured, like
many of his other "Epigrams," with that Bigiaretti-style punch line:
Vorrei tirare in porta
dopo un dribbling stretto,
ma son di vista corta
e colpirei il paletto.
[I would like to score a goal
after running with the ball,
but I'm way too nearsighted,
and I'd only hit the post.]
The element of play is central to Bigiaretti's poetry. It is a
recurring metaphor and, as such, it sometimes takes the form of a
soccer game ("Tempi supplementari" ["Overtime"], "Calcio" ["Soccer"]),
a race ("Prima del rettilineo" ["Heading into the Home Stretch"], "La
staffetta" ["The Relay"], "Fotofinish" ["Photo Finish"]) or a boxing
match ("Vecchio pugile" ["The Old Pugilist"]). For Bigiaretti, life itself
is both a game and a race against time. Like the old boxer after far too
many bouts with love, most of them ending in defeat, the poet cannot
help but feel "a little bit punchy." In the poem "Prima del rettilineo,"
he compares himself to a runner "heading into the home stretch" who
suddenly realizes he has no competitors. He is alone, racing against
time. At any moment the clock will stop and the race will end, and
with it all meaning and purpose:
Si arresterà la lancetta
di colpo, un secco tac
e non avrò saputo
se il record ho battuto.
[The clock will suddenly stop
38
with a metallic click,
and I will not know
whether or not I broke the record.]
Fortunate enough to have lived and been in the game longer than most,
the poet now finds himself playing "in overtime." But the clock
continues to tick during these final moments of play:
E siamo ai tempi supplementari:
minuti estremi che valgono ore,
casi ed occasioni diventano rari,
la speranza è nei calci di rigore.
[We are now in overtime:
a few minutes worth hours;
lucky breaks are now rare,
penalty kicks our only hope.]
According to Erasmi, overtime represents for Bigiaretti "that narrow
strip of no man's land between the memory of a meaningful life and the
contemplation of death" (p. xi). Indeed, the collection offers fertile
examples of reflections on the past, the present as well as on the
inevitable final moment.
Among the few compositions which express a nostalgic longing for
the past and for the land of his birth are four epigrams dedicated to his
native region of le Marche. Here, too, the poet's imagery is simple and
familiar (the boats on the Adriatic, verdicchio wine and ciaùscolo
sausage) but, nonetheless, highly representative of a gentle and
unpretentious people and their land. In "Le Marche IV," Bigiaretti
contrasts the serenity and mythical quality of his birthplace with the
fast-paced life of Rome where he has lived most of his life, not so
much to create a counterpoint between the two places, as to underscore
the dual nature of his own being:
Forse le Marche sono solo un sogno,
Roma una lunga e varia realtà.
Ma di queste due patrie io ho bisogno
per alternare le mie verità.
[Maybe the Marches are only a dream,
Rome's the reality of my experience.
39
But I've long needed these two homes
to alternate the faces of my truth.]
Near Rome, on the outskirts of Vallerano (Viterbo) is Bigiaretti's
country house which has been for the author both a refuge from the
feverish big-city life and a substitute for his native region. Vallerano
serves as the setting for "Troppo breve l'estate" ("Too Short the
Summer"), "La casa di campagna" ("Country House"), and "Vallerano,"
and as the backdrop for several other poems.
Other prevalent juxtapositions found in this collection include those
between past and present. As Bigiaretti states in "Inagibilità" ("Cross
at Your Own Risk"), to compare past and present is an inevitable
consequence of old age: "Invecchiare è confronto, ricordo." In the
poems "Altri tempi" ("Old Times"), "Il trapianto" ("Transplants"), "Noi
vediamo" ("All That We See") and "Oggi la morte" ("Death Today"),
Bigiaretti contrasts the myth of a pure, uncomplicated past, when
children could still swallow sea water while swimming, with a polluted
and corrupt present in which drugs are sold in the schoolyard. In
today's world, he writes in "Altri Tempi":
3
Tutto è smercio, consumo, progresso.
Anche la morte è liberalizzata.
[All is for sale, consumption, progress.
Death, too, is now deregulated.]
All that we perceive and believe today comes from the video screen and
"we can no longer see anything/concrete, standing still in its truth" ("All
That We See"). Eros has been replaced by heroin, and no one commits
suicide for love any more ("Death Today"). While he is quite critical
of contemporary society — and perhaps rightly so — Bigiaretti is also
well aware that his memory of the "Old Times" is very selective. In
fact, he refers to memory as "amabile/ombra spesso infedele" ("Cara
memoria" ['Tis Sweet to Remember"]).
One of the major themes of the collection is, of course, that of
death, examined from a variety of perspectives. Since Bigiaretti does
not believe in God or in an afterlife, death is a frightening prospect, but
it is also an intriguing one. Unlike Leopardi, however, Bigiaretti is
afraid to shipwreck in the sea of Nothingness. His only desire is to find
a secure and shaded harbour ("L'approdo" ["Of Shipwrecks and
4
5
40
6
Moorings"]). The poet's trepidation and anxiety as he approaches
death are expressed in the title work, "Posto di blocco" ("Checkpoint"):
Laggiù, in fondo, c'è il posto di blocco.
Mi chiederanno le carte, i permessi;
forse sarò giudicato inidoneo
a proseguire, inabile allo sterzo
per fronteggiare la svolta imprevista [...].
[Down there, at the end, the checkpoint.
They'll ask for my papers, my permit;
Perhaps I'll be declared unfit
to continue, unable to steer
when I approach the hidden bend...]
As Erasmi justly observes: "Checkpoint is a metaphor for death: every
one approaches it with an uneasy feeling; even those who have faith
wonder whether they will be given permission to go on to another life
or whether they'll be refused" (p. ix). An analogous metaphor for death
can be found in the last poem, "A Letter to Valeria," dedicated, as we
have seen, to the memory of Bigiaretti's daughter:
Poi si è chiusa la porta
che separa chi è fuori e chi sta dentro,
chi ha luce di ricordi
e chi è nel buio dell'assenza, sempre [...].
[Then the door was shut
that keeps those within from those without,
those still basking in the light of memories
from those in the darkness of absence, forever...]
The compositions which I have selected and briefly examined are
intended to provide the reader with a representative sampling of the
whole work. Bigiaretti's use of an uncluttered, accessible language and
uncomplicated verse forms make Posto di blocco (Checkpoint) an
extremely readable collection of poems. The secret to the volume's
readability is best summed up by Erasmi who writes: "Always the
consummate craftsman, Bigiaretti fashions a language that is fresh,
simple and spontaneous, rich in allusions and resonances and classical
in its rhythms. He has the supreme capacity of lending literary dignity
41
to common everyday expressions — the jargon of sports and technology
and even plain bad usage — by investing these terms with poignant
metaphorical value and by using them to color his language with
whimsical humor and gentle irony" (p. x).
Turning to the question of the translation of Bigiaretti's text, some
readers will invariably question the selection of a particular word or
phrase on the part of the translators. For example, in the previously
cited poem "Calcio" ("Soccer"), the lines "Vorrei tirare in porta/dopo un
dribbling stretto" are translated as "I would like to score a goal/after
running with the ball." The expression "running with the ball," used
more correctly in sports like rugby or football, does not accurately
translate "dribbling stretto." As a conventional soccer term, "dribbling"
should have been retained in the English translation. One of the
following phrases would therefore be more appropriate: "quick
dribbling," "neat dribbling" or "tight and fast dribbling." I have a similar quibble with the translation of the poem "A quell'età" ("At That
Age"):
Per i teen-agers non provo amore,
ma soltanto pietà.
Fu proprio a quell'età
che conobbi il dolore.
[I feel no love for teen-agers,
only pity.
It was right at that age I became
acquainted with grief.]
In my view, the word "grief gives the translation an excessively
mournful tone and implies misfortune or the loss of a loved one.
Moreover, both the tense and meaning of "conobbi" seem to signify "to
experience" or "to discover" rather than "to become acquainted with."
In my reading of the poem, "dolore" is referring to the pain or torment
experienced by teen-agers as a result of first love or other emotions.
Thus, my preference is for one of the following: "I first experienced
pain," "I first discovered sorrow" or "I learned about sorrow." On the
other hand, it must be pointed out that the translation Erasmi and
Chappie offer us of the aforementioned poem "Prima del rettilineo" is
certainly worthy of praise, particularly the following lines where the
English translation, in addition to conveying the meaning, also renders
42
very effectively both the alliteration and the onomatopoeia in the
original Italian text:
Si arresterà la lancetta / di colpo, un secco tac.
[The clock will suddenly stop / with a metallic click.]
As well, this example illustrates the translators' critical sense and their
attentiveness to rhythmic patterns. One should also note that in the
translation of "Lettera a Valeria," Erasmi and Chappie have made some
discerning and elegant choices in resolving problems arising from
Bigiaretti's use of mixed metaphors. Equally commendable are the
translations of "Tempi supplementari," "Posto di blocco," "La staffetta,"
"Un osso duro," "Orientamento," "I vecchi amici" and many other
poems of the collection.
However skillful the translation, there will be readers who will not
agree with the choices made by the translator(s). This is inevitable, for
a translation — like any interpretation — is neither definitive nor infallible. It is only one of several possibilities. And the translation of
poetry is particularly complex since it involves more than the mere
transcription of words from one language to another. It presupposes a
critical understanding and interpretation of the text and all its subtleties
on the part of the translator(s). In my opinion, the translation which
Erasmi and Chappie offer us demonstrates this critical understanding
and successfully reproduces both the message and feeling of the original
text. It is the result of a careful and laborious study of Bigiaretti's
poetry, during the course of which, as the translators state: "we found
pleasure in constantly discussing and discovering its nuances and
meaning."
At first glance, Bigiaretti's poems seem simple and
straightforward; and indeed they are. But for the translator — Erasmi
and Chappie note — the simplicity is quite misleading: "Our task
seemed deceptively easy, for Bigiaretti's poems are written in a terse
and transparent language; but, in translating them, we came to see how
this simplicity is but the supreme achievement of a poetic craftsmanship
practiced incessantly through a long life dedicated to understanding the
human condition" ("Foreword"). This is what makes Posto di blocco
(Checkpoint) such an exceptional and delightful collection of poems.
Those who decide to peruse this bilingual edition of Bigiaretti's work
will certainly not be disappointed.
As a final note, I would like to stress the need for any serious
43
translation of poetry to include the original text. For this, I commend
Erasmi and Chappie.
To be sure, a bilingual edition is a more
courageous undertaking since it exposes the translation to immediate
scrutiny. But if the translator has worked as diligently and honestly as
Erasmi and Chappie have, s/he will have nothing to fear in placing
her/his translation alongside the original. Only a bilingual edition of
poetry, such as the one I have examined, will permit readers of the two
languages to enjoy and compare the English translation with the facing
Italian text, while at the same time invite English-speaking readers to
make contact with the original poems and feel something of their fabric
and rhythms.
ERNESTO VIRGULTI
Brock University,
St. Catharines, Ontario
NOTES
* Libero Bigiaretti, Checkpoint: Poems of Death and Old Age, trans., intro., and
notes by Gabriele Erasmi and Gerald Chappie (Lewiston/Queenston/Lampeter:
The Edwin Mellen Press, 1991). 211 pp.
Before turning to writing, Bigiaretti, who had formally studied art, was intent
on becoming a painter. In addition to the sketches, his love for art can be seen
in lyrics like "L'amata pittura" (""I've Loved Painting") where he writes that
painting offers us an unobstructed view of reality and "colori più veri di quelli
naturali."
In honour of his daughter who died of cancer in 1988, Bigiaretti published
Lettera a Valeria (Urbino: Ca' Spinello, 1988), a limited edition of five poems
and a woodcut by Walter Piacesi. The poem "Le mie tre dimensioni" ("My
Three Dimensions") also refers to Valeria and to the other two women in
Bigiaretti's life, his granddaughter and his wife.
For the past twenty-five years, Bigiaretti has divided his time between Rome
and his peaceful country home outside Vallerano, which once belonged to his
friend, the novelist Corrado Alvaro.
One of the more witty and insightful descriptions of life in today's society is
contained in the poem "Supermarket" where "donne e uomini lisi, scoloriti/ [...]
spingono veicoli stracarichi/di detersivi, carta igienica, salse. [...] Si parla, di
niente, ci si aiuta/ci si sorride ignorandosi."
1
2
3
4
44
5
Bigiaretti believes only in "a wind/that has its origin and purpose in
Chance,/and Time drives it on without a stop" ("Vento e tempo" ["Wind and
Time"]). The notion of Chance as "the sole Providence" is also expressed in
"Brindisi" ("A Final Toast").
The poem "L'approdo" is intended as a re-elaboration of the images and
themes contained in Leopardi 's celebrated "L'infinito." Some allusions to the
same work can also be found in Bigiaretti's "Il bang" ("The Big Bang").
6
45