Libertà – An Italian Short Story read by Nanni Moretti

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.