Ti Volevo Dire [by Lisa Vihos - Day 2]

Ti volevo dire is a sign in the window of an unassuming storefront located in a tiny alley off a main cobblestone artery in Salerno, Italy. “Ti volevo dire” literally means, “I wanted to say to you.”

The eggshell-colored and slightly crumbling walls of this alley are covered in words written in black and red paint; poems by Salerno’s native son, the poet Alfonso Gatto (1909-1976). Gatto is recognized as one of the foremost Italian poets of the 20^th century, a practitioner of hermetic poetry, a form of obscure and difficult verse, in which the language and imagery are subjective, and where the suggestive power of the sound of words is as important as their meaning.

This storefront is the headquarters of the Fondazione Alfonso Gatto whose mission is to spread the work of Gatto by organizing cultural events like literary festivals, artistic interventions, writing workshops, and conferences like 100 Thousand Poets for Change. The foundation is committed to “the welfare of the region, in the belief that the use of expressive art can help to build more inclusive societies.”

Wow, I am all for that. In fact, since I am in between jobs right now, I think that maybe I need to start my own foundation for the working people of Wisconsin. My foundation will be dedicated to helping people recognize how much poetry and art is already present in their everyday lives. Lord knows, we need something around here to wake us up before it is too late. But, I digress.

When I posted the “Ti volevo dire” sign as my Facebook profile picture, Wisconsin poet and friend Tom Montag  commented, “Please, say it…”

And so, here I go:

Ti volevo dire: 
There is something comforting about a small corner market that sells local fruit, vegetables, bread, cheese, crackers, and salami. Who needs a “supermarket” with 30 kinds of potato chips and a wall full of toothpaste?

Ti volevo dire:
How pleasant it is to sit for a couple hours in a café and watch the world go by. 

Ti volevo dire:
Thank you for the self-serve espresso maker in the third floor conference room. Thank you for the daily dose of pastries.

Ti volevo dire:
Whatever you do, watch where you are stepping. And then, don’t ever use a potentially broken elevator.

Ti volevo dire:
Do not refer to the young poets and the old poets. There is no age where poetry is concerned.

Ti volevo dire:
In Italy, if you sit still long enough, someone will bring you a bowl of olives.

Ti volevo dire:
It was an honor to stand outside the house in which Alfonso Gatto lived and read one of his poems aloud. I honestly can’t remember which poem it was. Thus, I will end with this one translated by Philip Parisi and appearing in the book, The Wall Did Not Answer. 

 

Lazarus

Where are you running to, Lazarus, unscathed
where tree trunks amid rocks and bones
detained you through the parched land?
You're afraid of talking, afraid that your dark
spirit may speak.
In death you met your rest,
you could not awaken yourself.
Now you talk to the deaf wall,
you talk to the aged olive tree
and what you were you dare not think
nor who you will become by being.
Now you heed the disbelief that touches you
and tells you the truth
believing its own hands.
Incredible Lazarus, believed in
for what you will be tomorrow,
a bicyclist on the road.
Out of agony Jesus asked you
for the news you have about death.

Lazzaro

Dove fuggi, Lazzaro indenne
ove pedali tra pietre e ossa
per l'arida terra che ti tratenne?
Hai paura di parlare, paura che possa
parlare il tuo spirito oscuro.
Con la morte eri giunto al tuo riposo,
non poteva destarti.
Ora tu parli al muro
insensato, parli all'ulivo annoso
e qual eri no osi pensarti
e chi per essere sarai.
Ora attendi l'incredulo che tocchi
e che ti dica vero
credendo alle sue mani.
Incredibile Lazzaro creduto
per quel che sei domani,
un ciclista sul via.
Gesù ti chiese in conto d'agonia
notizie della morte che tu sai.

My friends, ti volevo dire, may you arise and greet the new day like Lazarus risen from the dead. May you find comfort in corner stores, in cafes, in sitting with your friends of any age, making manifest the dream of a world that is both just and peaceful, where everyone's place at the table is assured.

May you find a place as rich in poetry as Salerno, and may you make it your own.