Dear readers
we have found a site of audiobooks in Italian language very well done: not only are the books proposed interesting but also the people (actors, writers, journalists, etc.) who read them. The site you can browse on is the following: Emons Audiolibri – Catalogo generale.
One of these books is Sillabari by Goffredo Parise read by Nanni_Moretti (a very famous Italian film maker, maybe you know him).
“Sillabari è una collezione di racconti brevi e fulminanti sulle esperienze essenziali nell’esistenza umana. Per ogni lettera dell’alfabeto l’autore descrive sentimenti e stati d’animo, con una prosa lirica e semplice allo stesso tempo. I brani sono ideati e disposti in una sorta di glossario: dalla A di Amore alla S di Solitudine, passando per la B di Bambino e la C di Carezza.”
“Sillabari is a collection of short, lightning-fast stories about essential experiences in human existence. For each letter of the alphabet, the author describes feelings and moods, with a prose that is lyrical and simple at the same time. The pieces are designed and arranged in a sort of glossary: from A for Love to S for Loneliness, passing through B for Child and C for Caress.”
The story we are proposing is LIBERTA’ (Freedom), and it is about a young American painter who arrived in Rome and, at the same time, it is about what the word “socialism” means to the writer. It’s a good story although maybe difficult to listen to in the opening parts.
LIBERTA’
From Sillabari by Goffredo Parise
Read by Nanni Moretti.
| Un piumino rosa Come di cipria, Amaranto In un magazzino di stracci cinesi Pedalava come un ragazzo, con foga Pane crudo lievitato pronto per essere messo al forno Con la punta di un piede per terra Mordendosi i baffetti Sovrappensiero In discesa Lo sguardo volò dentro quel catino in ombra La bicicletta affondò dentro l’oscurità verdastra Levò da dietro il sellino una cartella e una scatoletta di legno L’ampia conca del maneggio Foglio di carta gialla da macellaio che distese sulla cartella Pastelli A malapena In un buco della Suburra Con una stupita grazia miagolante Pittore di paesaggi e di interni Giallo canarino Quando il sole era alto oppure radente E tutto è ancora avvolto da qualche cosa di diurno che appartiene più alla notte che al giorno Corrucciato Lavorava svelto con i suoi gessetti Seggiolino pieghevole Gambe fasciate Una rivoltella infilata nella cintura Lo sbirciava ogni tanto Indiscrezione innocente Il volto era offuscato da qualcosa Crudele Sfregare i gessetti sulla carta Un bastoncino nero e sottile a cui si appoggiò Bitorzoluti Fatte apposta Un passero Miagolante Di tanto in tanto Battagliera Scadaloso | A pink powder puff As of face powder Reddish purple In a Chinese rag warehouse He pedaled like a boy, with eagerness Leavened raw bread ready to be put in the oven With a toe on the ground Biting his moustache Lost in thought Downhill The gaze flew into that basin in the shade The bicycle sank into the greenish darkness He took from behind the saddle a briefcase and a little wooden box The wide basin of the riding school Sheet of yellow butcher paper that he spread on the briefcase Crayons Barely In a hole in the Suburra* With an astonished mewing grace Painter of landscapes and interiors Canary Yellow When the sun was high or grazing And everything is still shrouded by some diurnal thing that belongs more to the night than to the day Frowning Worked fast with his chalks Folding seat Bandaged legs A revolver tucked in his belt Peeked at him now and then Innocent indiscretion His face was clouded by something Cruel Chalk rubbing on the paper A thin black stick he leaned on ……………… …………………… Warty Made on purpose Sparrow Meowing Now and then Combative Outrageous |
*Suburra: particularly bad area in Rome.