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In Memoria

"Repost: già postato il 05/12/2007"

Oggi mi è capitato di leggere questa poesia di Ungaretti.
Voglio postarla perché, intanto mi ricorda i morti che nessuno o quasi ricorda o ricorderà.
Oggi "Moammed Sceab" è mio padre, Bonaventura Salvatore, che è morto esattamente dieci anni fa.
E mi ricorda anche i senza patria: coloro che fuggono dalla terra di nascita e si rifugiano in un posto a cui non appartengono, neanche se si cambiano the skin or the name, to those who can not dissolve the singing of the abandonment of the cemetery and are accompanied only by a friend and an old lady.

IN MEMORY.
Locvizza September 30, 1916. His name

Moammed Sceab

Descending
of emirs of nomads

suicide because he had not
Homeland

I love France and changed his name was Marcel

but it was French and did not know


live in the tent its
where listening to the chanting of the Koran

with a coffee

And he did not know the song


dissolve its abandonment

I took him along with the landlady
where we lived in Paris

by the number 5, rue des Carmes
wilted down the alley.

rests in the cemetery of Ivry
suburb that seems to always


a day in a fair
decomposed

And maybe I only know yet who lived