Eugenio Montale

Eugenio Montale Poems

1. Again and Again I Have Seen Life's Evil 1/22/2018
2. To Spend the Afternoon 1/22/2018
3. Glory of Expanded Noon 1/22/2018
4. Bring Me the Sunflower 1/22/2018
5. The Dead 1/22/2018
6. The Storm 1/22/2018
7. At the Threshold 1/22/2018
8. The Lemon Trees 12/24/2014

Comments about Eugenio Montale

  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (12/7/2015 2:36:00 PM)

    Montale.. the greatest Italian poet of the XX century... surely the one I love the most

    64 person liked.
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  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (11/18/2015 2:04:00 PM)

    Another beautiful poem by Eugenio Montale - original Italian text:

    ''Non chiederci la parola''

    Non chiederci la parola che squadri da ogni lato
    l’animo nostro informe, e a lettere di fuoco
    lo dichiari e risplenda come un croco
    perduto in mezzo a un polveroso prato.

    Ah l’uomo che se ne va sicuro,
    agli altri ed a se stesso amico,
    e l’ombra sua non cura che la canicola
    stampa sopra uno scalcinato muro!

    Non domandarci la formula che mondi possa aprirti,
    sì qualche storta sillaba e secca come un ramo.
    Codesto solo oggi possiamo dirti,
    ciò che non siamo, ciò che non vogliamo.

    79 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (6/16/2015 4:57:00 AM)

    Montale is one of the greatest Italian Poets.. pity that only 1 poem by Montale has been posted at PoemHunter..

    Using the comment box (below ''The Lemon Trees'') , I've posted another beautiful poem (from his collection 'Ossi di Seppia' - 'Cuttlefish Bones') : it is ''Sit the noon out, pale and lost in thought'' - ''Meriggiare Pallido e Assorto''

    108 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Romella Kitchens (2/25/2014 3:29:00 AM)

    Eugenio Montale still remain one of the foremost Italian poets of modern times even in his passing many years ago.

    8 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
Best Poem of Eugenio Montale

The Lemon Trees

Hear me a moment. Laureate poets
seem to wander among plants
no one knows: boxwood, acanthus,
where nothing is alive to touch.
I prefer small streets that falter
into grassy ditches where a boy,
searching in the sinking puddles,
might capture a struggling eel.
The little path that winds down
along the slope plunges through cane-tufts
and opens suddenly into the orchard
among the moss-green trunks
of the lemon trees.

Perhaps it is better
if the jubilee of small birds
dies down, swallowed in the sky,
yet more real to one who listens,
the ...

Read the full of The Lemon Trees
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