Why are we responsible for their situation and translating for them? I don't know!

But the blame is not on them. The blame is on the one who read the title - and didn't pay attention - and tried to read the book! >> That's me

It seems that there is some confusion or dissatisfaction here. Maybe there is a task or responsibility that feels unfair. The person is wondering why they have to take on the burden of dealing with others' situations and translating. However, they also realize that the real fault might lie with themselves for not being more careful when reading the title and attempting to read the book. This could imply that they might have misinterpreted something or overlooked important details. Overall, it's a bit of a self-reflection on the part of the writer.

Montale moves me, and already at the moment when I pronounce this sentence in a low voice, I am aware of not saying anything original. This effect he has on everyone.

His verses wrap around you, they move you. They dig trenches under your skin that lead straight to the soul and the brain.

In his verses, there is the fragrance of "lemons", there is the vortex of the brightest and most vivid colors that shine even among the darkest stanzas. His is not a melancholy of an empty stomach, but rather the melancholy breeze similar to that which caresses the eyes of those who live far from their native land and think of it in the dead of night... between nostalgia and smiles for the awareness of the return.

These are the verses that you cannot help but underline to trace a line that from the page reaches far, crossing the thresholds of consciousness.

And if one wants to underline their beauty, one risks, as in my case, finding oneself with a book completely bordered by graphite at the end of the reading.

Sublime.

Ma l'illusione manca e ci riporta il tempo nelle città rumorose dove l'azzurro si mostra soltanto a pezzi, in alto, tra le cimase. The lack of illusion takes us back to the noisy cities where the blue is only shown in pieces, up high, among the rooftops. It's as if the vibrant color is fragmented, just like our hopes and dreams in the hustle and bustle of urban life.

La pioggia stanca la terra, di poi; s'affolta il tedio dell'inverno sulle case, la luce si fa avara - amara l'anima. Then, the rain tires the earth. The boredom of winter weighs heavily on the houses, and the light becomes stingy - the soul turns bitter. The rainy and cold winter seems to bring a sense of melancholy and hopelessness, making our souls feel as if they are trapped in a dark corner.

Montale, nato al mare morto a Milano. Mi dispiace Eugenio, sei tutti noi. Montale, born by the dead sea in Milan. I'm sorry, Eugenio, you are all of us. His words seem to resonate with our own experiences and emotions, as if he is expressing the collective feelings of humanity. We can all identify with the sense of loss, the weariness, and the bitterness that he describes.

The collection is rather brief, and overall, it is all right.

However, there are a few poems within it that I truly believed were real gems.

Their merit is what sets them apart and gives this collection 4 stars instead of just 2 or 3.

These particular poems possess a certain charm and elegance that catches the reader's attention and holds it.

They are filled with vivid imagery, profound emotions, and unique perspectives that make them stand out from the rest.

Despite the brevity of the collection, these few outstanding poems manage to leave a lasting impression and make it worthy of a higher rating.

Perhaps with a bit more expansion and exploration, the collection could have been even more remarkable, but as it stands, it still has its亮点 and is definitely worth a read.

"Mia vita, a te non chiedo lineamenti / fissi, volti plausibili o possessi". This beautiful line from Montale's work touches the heart deeply. Amo Montale, and this collection has a special charm. It makes you feel that you are never out of place in the world. Indeed, you may sometimes feel that you are out of place, but you are not alone. There are so many others who share the same feeling. In this vast and complex world, we all struggle to find our own place. Montale's words offer a kind of solace and understanding. They remind us that our experiences and emotions are not unique, and that there is a certain beauty and meaning in our sense of displacement. Through his poetry, we can gain a deeper perspective on life and find the courage to face our own uncertainties.

"Va’, per te l’ho pregato, - ora la sete
Mi sarà lieve, meno acre la ruggine…"

This beautiful and somewhat mysterious verse seems to convey a sense of longing and perhaps a release of some kind. It could be interpreted as someone asking another to go, having prayed for them, and now believing that their thirst (perhaps for something intangible like peace or understanding) will be lighter, and the corrosiveness (maybe of pain or regret) will be less harsh.

One can imagine the scene: a person standing in a quiet place, perhaps a garden or a lonely street corner, speaking these words with a mix of hope and resignation. The use of the Italian language adds an air of elegance and romance to the sentiment.

As we reflect on these words, we are drawn into the emotional world of the speaker, left to wonder about the nature of their relationship with the person they are addressing and the significance of the "sete" and "ruggine" they mention. It is a powerful and evocative piece of poetry that invites us to explore our own feelings and experiences of longing and release.

I truly appreciate Montale, but unfortunately, apart from his movements and some of his last poems, he didn't convince me at all.

Probably, if I could give a rating out of one hundred, it would be around 32/100 because I didn't feel a strong necessity behind many of these compositions.

His works seem to lack a certain depth and passion that I was hoping to find.

Maybe it's because I have different expectations or because I haven't fully understood his style.

However, I still respect his contributions to the literary world and I'm willing to give his works another chance in the future.

Who knows, maybe I'll discover something new and wonderful that I missed before.

Eugenio Montale's poetry collection is not only a bildungsroman but also the story of a patricide. The victim? The Ligurian Sea. Surprising, isn't it? I'll talk about it here.

"La vita è questo scialo

di triti fatti, vano

più che crudele."

(Flussi, p. 101)

Life is this shawl

made of worn-out facts, vain

more than cruel. It seems that our existence is like a shawl composed of countless experiences and events that have been ground down over time. These facts, once perhaps significant, now seem empty and lacking in true meaning. The word "vain" implies a sense of futility and pointlessness, as if all our efforts and pursuits are ultimately in vain. And yet, this description of life as "more than cruel" suggests that there is an element of harshness and unfairness that pervades our existence. It makes us wonder about the true nature of life and whether there is any real purpose or value to be found within its often difficult and challenging journey.

After all this time?

I didn't remember all the death evoked by the dry walls of the lost summers, or perhaps I didn't have the tools to read it.

Today I do. It's nice to get lost among such carefully chosen words, even if my favorite Montale came later.

The passage seems to be reflecting on a past that was perhaps not fully understood or appreciated at the time. The mention of the "lost summers" and the "dry walls" creates a sense of nostalgia and decay. The idea that the author now has the tools to understand something that was previously hidden adds an element of growth and self-discovery.

It makes one wonder what other aspects of our lives we may have overlooked or misinterpreted in the past, and how our perspectives can change over time.

Overall, the passage is short but evocative, leaving the reader with a sense of mystery and a desire to know more about the author's journey of self-awareness.

“No senses have I; nor sense. I have no limits.” This profound and mysterious statement immediately catches one's attention.

I read the version translated by Antonino Mazza, and I was completely spellbound by the mad sunflowers and the salty blues. The vivid imagery and the unique combination of colors and emotions truly transported me to another world.

I felt that the collection worked extremely well as a cohesive body of work. Each piece seemed to flow seamlessly into the next, creating a unified and powerful experience. It was as if the author had carefully crafted each word and image to fit together perfectly.

And to top it all off, I believe my copy was an absolute steal for just $1 flat. It was a bargain beyond compare, considering the beauty and depth of the collection. I feel extremely lucky to have come across such a wonderful piece of art at such a low price.

Every time I read a poem by Montale, I am left breathless. Right here, in his first collection, "Sepia Bones", published in 1925, the poetics of one of the poets who will most significantly characterize the poetry literature of the 20th century is outlined. Liguria serves as the backdrop for the entire collection because, being an "arid and meager" land, it manages to outline the condition of man through its characteristic landscape. Absolutely must-read and must-experience. The best ones for me are "To Doze Pale and Pensive", "Don't Ask for the Word" and "The Lemons".

Montale's poetry is like a delicate web that weaves together emotions, images, and ideas. His use of language is precise and evocative, drawing the reader into a world that is both familiar and strange. The poems in "Sepia Bones" explore themes such as love, loss, and the human condition, with a depth and sensitivity that is truly remarkable.

Whether you are a lover of poetry or simply looking for something new to read, Montale's work is sure to captivate and inspire you. So pick up a copy of "Sepia Bones" and let yourself be transported to a world of beauty and mystery.