Ho letto millanta storie di cavalieri erranti,
di imprese e di vittorie dei giusti sui prepotenti
per starmene ancora chiuso coi miei libri in questa stanza
come un vigliacco ozioso, sordo ad ogni sofferenza.
Nel mondo oggi più di ieri domina l’ingiustizia,
ma di eroici cavalieri non abbiamo più notizia;
proprio per questo, Sancho, c’è bisogno soprattutto
d’uno slancio generoso, fosse anche un sogno matto
Vammi a prendere la sella, che il mio impegno ardimentoso
l’ho promesso alla mia bella, Dulcinea del Toboso,
e a te Sancho io prometto che guadagnerai un castello,
ma un rifiuto non l’accetto, forza sellami il cavallo!
Tu sarai il mio scudiero, la mia ombra confortante
e con questo cuore puro, col mio scudo e Ronzinante,
colpirò con la mia lancia l’ingiustizia giorno e notte,
com’è vero nella Mancha che mi chiamo Don Chisciotte.
Questo folle non sta bene, ha bisogno di un dottore,
contraddirlo non conviene, non è mai di buon umore.
È la più triste figura che sia apparsa sulla Terra,
cavalier senza paura di una solitaria guerra
cominciata per amore di una donna conosciuta
dentro a una locanda a ore dove fa la prostituta,
ma credendo di aver visto una vera principessa,
lui ha voluto ad ogni costo farle quella sua promessa.
E così da giorni abbiamo solo calci nel sedere,
non sappiamo dove siamo, senza pane e senza bere
e questo pazzo scatenato che è il più ingenuo dei bambini
proprio ieri si è stroncato fra le pale dei mulini.
È un testardo, un idealista, troppi sogni ha nel cervello,
io che sono più realista mi accontento di un castello.
Mi farà Governatore e avrò terre in abbondanza,
quant’è vero che anch’io ho un cuore e che mi chiamo Sancho Panza.
Salta in piedi, Sancho, è tardi, non vorrai dormire ancora,
solo i cinici e i codardi non si svegliano all’aurora
per i primi è indifferenza e disprezzo dei valori
e per gli altri è riluttanza nei confronti dei doveri!
L’ingiustizia non è il solo male che divora il mondo,
anche l’anima dell’uomo ha toccato spesso il fondo,
ma dobbiamo fare presto perché più che il tempo passa
il nemico si fa d’ombra e s’ingarbuglia la matassa.
A proposito di questo farsi d’ombra delle cose,
l’altro giorno quando ha visto quelle pecore indifese
le ha attaccate come fossero un esercito di Mori,
ma che alla fine ci mordessero oltre i cani anche i pastori
era chiaro come il giorno, non è vero, mio signore?
Io sarò un codardo e dormo, ma non sono un traditore,
credo solo in quel che vedo e la realtà per me rimane
il solo metro che possiedo, com’è vero che ora ho fame !
Sancho ascoltami, ti prego, sono stato anch’io un realista,
ma ormai oggi me ne frego e, anche se ho una buona vista,
l’apparenza delle cose come vedi non m’inganna,
preferisco le sorprese di quest’anima tiranna
che trasforma coi suoi trucchi la realtà che hai lì davanti,
ma ti apre nuovi occhi e ti accende i sentimenti.
Prima d’oggi mi annoiavo e volevo anche morire,
ma ora sono un uomo nuovo che non teme di soffrire.
Mio signore, io purtroppo sono un povero ignorante
e del suo discorso astratto ci ho capito poco o niente,
ma anche ammesso che il coraggio mi cancelli la pigrizia,
riusciremo noi da soli a riportare la giustizia?
In un mondo dove il male è di casa e ha vinto sempre,
dove regna il Capitale, oggi più spietatamente,
riuscirà con questo brocco e questo inutile scudiero
al potere dare scacco e salvare il mondo intero?
Mi vuoi dire, caro Sancho, che dovrei tirarmi indietro
perché il male ed il potere hanno un aspetto così tetro?
Dovrei anche rinunciare ad un po’ di dignità,
farmi umile e accettare che sia questa la realtà?
Il potere è l’immondizia della storia degli umani
e anche se siamo soltanto due romantici rottami,
sputeremo il cuore in faccia all’ingiustizia giorno e notte:
siamo i grandi della Mancha,
Sancho Panza e Don Chisciotte!
Don Quixote
Translated by:
Fabio Romerio
I’ve read umpteen stories of wandering knights,
of feats and victories of the righteous over the bullies
to remain still cooped up with my books in this room
like a lazy coward, deaf to every sufferance.
Injustice rules the world today more than yesterday,
but we hear no more of heroic knights;
and that’s why, Sancho, we need above all
a wholehearted upsurge, even if it were a crazy dream:
go fetch my saddle, that my fearless commitment
I pledged to my love, Dulcinea del Toboso,
and to you Sancho I promise that you will earn a castle,
but I won’t accept a refusal, go on and saddle my horse!
You will be my squire, my comforting shadow
and with this pure heart, my shield and Rocinante,
I will fight injustice with my spear day and night,
as it’s true that in La Mancha my name is Don Quixote.
This fool is insane, he needs a doctor,
it’s not worth contradicting him, he’s never in a good mood,
He’s the most depressing man who ever walked this Earth,
a knight without fear of fighting a solitary war
that he started for the love of a woman he met
in a brothel where she is a prostitute,
but thinking that he saw a true princess,
he insisted at all costs to make her that promise.
And for days we have been only getting kicked in the ass,
we don’t know where we are, without bread and nothing to drink
and this crazy man who is more gullible than a child
just yesterday got stuck between the mill blades.
He’s stubborn, an idealist, he’s got too many dreams in his head:
I am more of a realist and I settle for a castle.
He’ll make me Governor and I will have plenty of land,
as it’s true that I too have a heart and that my name is Sancho Panza.
Get up, Sancho, it’s late, you can’t possibly still want to sleep,
only cynics and cowards don’t wake up at dawn:
for the first ones it’s their indifference and disdain of values
and for the second it’s reluctance toward their duties!
Injustice is not the only evil devouring the world,
man’s soul has often hit rock bottom,
but we have to hurry because the more time goes by
and the more our enemy hides in the dark and the skein gets tangled.
Speaking of hiding in the dark,
the other day when you saw those defenseless sheep
you attacked them as if they were an army of Moors,
but the fact that, on top of the dogs, the shepherds too
were going to bite us was clear as day, isn’t it true, my Lord?
I may be a coward and lazy, but I am not a traitor,
I only believe in what I see and for me the truth is still
the only measuring stick that I have, as it is true that now I’m hungry!
Sancho listen to me, I beg you, I too was a realist,
but now I don’t care anymore and, even though I can see very well,
the appearance of things does not deceive me anymore,
I prefer the surprises of my tyrannical soul
that with its tricks changes the reality that is in front of you,
but gives you new eyes and lights up your feelings.
In the past I was bored and I even wanted to die,
But now I am a new man who is not afraid to suffer.
My Lord, unfortunately I am just a poor illiterate
and I understood little or nothing of your abstract speech,
but even if my courage will triumph over my laziness,
will the two of us be able to bring back justice?
In a world where evil is everywhere and has always won,
where the Capital reigns, today even more so without mercy,
will this nag and this useless squire be able to
defeat the powerful and save the whole world?
Dear Sancho, are you saying that I should retreat
because the evil and the powerful are so dark and scary?
I should also give up my self-respect,
be humble and accept this reality?
The powerful are the rubbish of all mankind,
and even if we are two scrappy romantics,
we will spit our hearts in the face of injustice day and night:
we are the “Greats of La Mancha”
Sancho Panza and Don Quixote!
Francesco Guccini, born in Modena in 1940, is one of the best-known Italian cantautori. His career spans about 50 years, during which he recorded 16 original albums and performed in countless concerts. Although he is no longer performing, his signature voice and impassionate ballads make him one of the most iconic folk singers of his generation. In 2001, Guccini relocated from Bologna to Pàvana, his ancestral village in the Apennines, where, between 2011 and 2012, he famously moved his musicians and an entire recording studio in order to tape his last album (Ultima Thule) and shoot a documentary about this effort (La mia Thule). During the same year, still in Pàvana, he announced that he was finished with concerts and albums, and retired from the musical scene.
Life goes on, and the imposing singer-songwriter now focuses his artistic inspiration on writing mystery novels (with Loriano Macchiavelli), and autobiographical collections. Before retirement he had already penned an excellent autobiographical trilogy: Cròniche epafàniche (1991), Vacca d’un cane (1993), and Cittanòva blues (2003). In these books, he uses an idiolect that sets the Italian language in the context of different dialectal soundscapes, depending on where the books are set. Cròniche epafàniche, dedicated to his childhood in the Apennines, delighted readers for its narrative ease and strong imagery, brought about by his original linguistic choices. For example, in a passage dedicated to his childhood pastime of fishing in the local creek, he writes:
è più facile prenderli, i pesci, con le mani, quando il gorello dello sfioratore del botàccio va in secca, e nelle pozétte qualche pesce rimane: una volta, quando c’era più pesci, usavano anche le nasse di stroppe che ora sono rinsecchite e inerti nel Maganzino. (17)
(it is easy to catch the fish with your hands when the basin of the creek dries up, and some fish are left in the small puddles: in the past, when there were more fish, they even used fishing traps made out of willow branches that are now dried out and inactive in the warehouse) (17)
Guccini’s importance as a cantautore in the history of Italian music cannot be overestimated. His ballads blended ethics and poetics, satire and indignation, past and present.
Even those who are not familiar with his vast body of work have come across some of Guccini’s early songs, such as “Dio è morto” (Folk Beat n. 1, 1967), inspired in the title by Nietzsche’s Thus Spoke Zarathustraand in the lyrics by Allen Ginsberg’s “Howl”:
Ho visto la gente della mia età andare via lungo le strade che non portano mai a niente cercare il sogno che conduce alla pazzia alla ricerca di qualcosa che non trovano
(I have seen the people of my generation walk away / on roads leading nowhere / pursuing a dream that leads to folly / seeking something they can’t find)
One of his other famous ballads is “Auschwitz,” also known as “La canzone del bambino nel vento” (Song of the Child in the Wind) written after reading an autobiographical book by Vincenzo Pappalettera entitled Tu passerai per il camino:
Son morto che ero bambino sono morto con altri cento. Passato per il camino e adesso sono nel vento.
(I was a child when I died I died with one hundred others I went through the chimney and now I am in the wind)
Guccini is the author of “L’Avvelenata” (Via Paolo Fabbri, 43, published in 1976) one of the most scurrilous songs in the history of the Italian musica cantautorale. It constitutes a powerful act of indignation, peppered with swearwords. If in the beginning it felt scandalous, later on it became a symbol of the intensity of the personal protests that characterized the 1970s.
Guccini always claimed to be more of an anarchist than a communist. “La locomotiva,” (Radici, 1972), with which he ended all of his concerts, is one of his signature songs. It is a long anarchist ballad about a railway engineer, Pietro Rigosi, who, at the turn of the 19th century, tried to hurl a locomotor against a passenger train, to protest against the difficult living conditions at the time.
In his canzoniere, Francesco Guccini sends a strong ethical message that is poetic, politically engaged and often satirical. For all these reasons, Dario Fo once called him “la voce del movimento.” Influences on his music and texts are Jacques Brel and Georges Brassens, Bob Dylan and Paul Simon, as well as Édit Piaf.
As far as his own iconography, he was famous for performing with a bottle of wine under his chair. “Al rosso saggio chiedi i tuoi perché,” (You ask the red sage your questions) he writes in “Un altro giorno è andato.” (Un altro giorno è andato/Il bello, 1968). In his lyrics wine is a companion of many a night; the “red sage” he mentions in that song is in fact a metaphor for red wine.
Francesco Guccini is probably the only cantautore who made his own private address the title of one of his albums. Via Paolo Fabbri, 43, in Bologna, has become a necessary pilgrimage for anyone who admires his musical and poetic productions.
His poetry is inspired by his vast literary knowledge, which transpires in innumerable references, from Carlo Collodi to Alessandro Manzoni, from Jack Kerouac to John Dos Passos, from Guido Gozzano to Carl Barks. The depth and the literary value of his body of work resulted in a large number of awards, including, in 1992, the prestigious Premio Librex-Guggenheim Eugenio Montale for the section “versi in musica.”
Gozzano in particular was greatly influential for Guccini’s most intimate lyrics. In fact, the author is indebted to crepuscularism both in his atmospheres and in stylistic choices. For example, the famous song Incontro, (Radici, 1972) describing a dinner, after many years, with a high school friend, Guccini mentions that the cutlery had the color of nostalgia (stoviglie color nostalgia). One can hear, in this romantic and nostalgic song, a reference to Gozzano’s long poem “Signorina Felicita,” (I colloqui, 1911) in particular a reference to Felicita’s eyes, described by Gozzano as cutlery-blue (“azzurri di un azzurro di stoviglia”). The most evident borrowing from Guido Gozzano is, however, Guccini’s adaptation of “La più bella,” a poem that Guccini set to music with the title “L’isola non trovata.”
In a recent interview (for Diego Bianchi’s talk show, Propaganda live) Guccini laments the disappearance of those who used to populate “his” mountains, and therefore the watering down of that particular culture, and of his own roots. The search for his roots is one of the major themes of his canzoniere, in particular in his 1972 album Radici. The song he dedicated to his uncle Amerigo, who emigrated to the United States and only returned to Pàvana an old man, exemplifies his attention for his family history.
The theme of Pàvana as the locus amoenus where many of the contradiction of life are resolved is one of the most enduring themes of his lyrics. His last album, Ultima Thule (2012), recorded inside the mill that has belonged to his family for several generations, is replete with childhood memories, including the sound of the millstone that kept grinding day and night when he was a child.
Another important theme in Guccini’s productions is time. In the eponymous song of his last album, “Ultima Thule,” he bemoans the passing of time, which brought an end to the marauding escapades with his closest musician friends:
Io che tornavo fiero ad ogni porto dopo una lotta, dopo un arrembaggio, non son più quello e non ho più il coraggio di veleggiare su un vascello morto.
Dov’è la ciurma che mi accompagnava e assecondava ogni ribalderia? Dove la forza che ci circondava? Ora si è spenta ormai, sparita via.
(I proudly came back to every port after a fight, after a boarding, I am no longer that person and I no longer have the courage to sail on a dead vessel.
Where is the crew that accompanied me and supported every mischief? Where is the strength that surrounded us? It’s gone now, gone away.”
(“Ultima Thule”, Ultima Thule, 2012)
We should not worry about this melancholy last song. Guccini’s buen retiro in the Apennines is a destination for fans and scholars alike. He does not even seem to mind the frequent interruptions or his legendary status among his admirers. In the hope of meeting him in Pàvana one day, we look forward to his next mystery novel.
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