Not just a ditty E-Book

Emanuele Merlino

• Herausgeber: Idrovolante Edizioni
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

Gotifredo Mameli dei Mannelli, better known as Goffredo Mameli (Genoa, 5 September 1827 - Rome, 6 July 1849) is the prototype of the young and handsome hero. Tormented by his dreams of a free and united Italy, he began fighting at a very young age. He - a Genoese - with the vivid example of young Gianbattista Perasso, the Balilla, in mind. From the patriotic protests to the war waged in the field, the step was short. In 1848 he was at the Five Days of Milan, then captain of Garibaldi’s army in Rome. As a Lieutenant of the “Hero of the Two Worlds” during the French siege of the Roman Republic, he was shot in the leg by the enemy. The wound became infected and Mameli died of septicemia on July 6, 1849, at 7:30 in the morning at the Trinità dei Pellegrini hospital. On September 10, 1847 he had written a song that would be set to music by Michele Novaro. The first verse reads: «Brothers of Italy, Italy has awakened... ». Today it is Italy’s national anthem. 

Leseprobe

Emanuele Merlino

Not just a ditty

Goffredo Mameli (1827-1849)

Not just a ditty

Emanuele Merlino

© Idrovolante Edizioni

All rights reserved

Director: Roberto Alfatti Appetiti

Editor-in-chief: Daniele Dell’Orco

1st edition – april 2020

www.idrovolanteedizioni.it

[email protected]

prologue

She smiles at me and says, “Come on! Let’s go look at the sea! It’s stormy today!”.

I don’t feel like it, but I answer, “Let’s go”. We take a long walk and reach an area full of rocks. She would like to sit on them, watch the sea and maybe hold my hand while I recite a few verses or tell her about my dreams. Dreams in which she hopes to have a place.

She is in love with me. I know it.

I am not.

Perhaps I will be in the future? It would be nice to be happy together. I would truly like to try.

We watch the sea come and go; the waves explode upon the rocks with a sound I love. As powerful as the lives told by poets. It is a spectacle both terrible and beautiful. The noise seems to overwhelm my every thought and prevents us from talking.

Yes, this unbridled, amoral violence is my ally. I only have restraints and do nothing but seek the moral in my dreams. The dreams I then try to live. And it is because of those restraints that when I write, something happens.

“You look so cold, yet your verses burn with life...”.

I look at the sea, maybe I smile a little. Maybe my eyes become wet with emotion.

She thinks it is for her.

She hopes.

She expects something from me.

Maybe I could kiss her now. Maybe I should.

But the sea is too rough, and the rocks are covered with water. And we risk getting drenched by the water. The sky has darkened.

“We have to go. Let’s get back to Genoa” I tell her.

We are a few miles from our city and this small town where we came to look at the sea is called Quarto al Mare.

She hoped this would be a beginning. A touching of the lips, uttering promises of eternity that are poetry and beauty. Even if at times, life, like these waves, withdraws those promises and leaves you cold. And no fire or heavy clothes are enough to warm you.

It was supposed to be a beginning for her. It won’t be. Maybe someone else will seize these held-back tears and sail across them as far as dreams will guide him.

I won’t know.

Will I take to the sea one day as well?

And so my life begins. With my back turned away from possible happiness, looking for something beyond the stormy sea. Beyond this rock that, though I cannot know but rather feel in my heart, will soon gather these dreams and make them the engines of an endeavor and the soul of a speech that will change history.

But it doesn’t concern me.