I love Caproni, and he loved a lot my city, Genova, his “soul place”. In his words you can understand that feeling that everyone has here: Genova is a hard home, a place that makes you want continously to go away and then crying of love when you are back. It’s a beautiful, sad, deep, complicated bad lover.
Genova che mi struggi.
Genova e così sia,
mare in un’osteria.
I have a vivid memory of Giorgio Caproni reading his verses in my classroom; he was very old, sitting on the teacher desk, reading for us. He took with him even a book to gift us. I wanted it, but a classmate got it.
The fact is he died in 1990 and at that time I was 9. This makes my memory impossible. I don’t have explainations: was it a very vivid dream? On the other hand, I believed it for so many years that my mind can’t process it as an illusion. Everytime I’ll read one of his poetries, I’ll continue to remember Caproni’s old voice as he’s sitting on the desk in my classroom, even if it never happened. Oddities, but at least good ones. 🙂