Count Giacomo Leopardi
Giacomo Taldegardo Francesco di Sales Saverio Pietro Leopardi was an Italian poet, essayist, philosopher, and philologist. Although he lived in a secluded town in the ultra-conservative Papal States, he came in touch with the main thoughts of the Enlightenment, and, by his own literary evolution, created a remarkable and renowned poetic work, related to the Romantic era.
Giacomo Leopardi was born of a local noble family in Recanati, in the Marche, at the time ruled by the papacy. His father, the count Monaldo Leopardi, was a good-hearted man, fond of literature but weak and reactionary, who remained bound to antiquated ideas and prejudices; his mother, the ... more »
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Count Giacomo Leopardi Poems
This solitary hill has always been dear to me And this hedge, which prevents me from seeing most of The endless horizon.
Night Song Of A Wandering Shepherd In As...
What doest thou in heaven, O moon? Say, silent moon, what doest thou? Thou risest in the evening; thoughtfully Thou wanderest o'er the plain,
Sempre caro mi fu quest'ermo colle E questa siepe che da tanta parte De'l ultimo orrizonte il guarde esclude. Ma sedendo e mirando interminati
Calm After Storm
The storm hath passed; I hear the birds rejoice; the hen, Returned into the road again, Her cheerful notes repeats. The sky serene
The Lonely Life
The morning rain, when, from her coop released, The hen, exulting, flaps her wings, when from The balcony the husbandman looks forth,
On The Portrait Of A Beautiful Woman,
Such _wast_ thou: now in earth below, Dust and a skeleton thou art.
The Evening Of The Holiday
The night is mild and clear, and without wind, And o'er the roofs, and o'er the gardens round The moon shines soft, and from afar reveals
Ah, well can I the day recall, when first The conflict fierce of love I felt, and said: If _this_ be love, how hard it is to bear!
The Lonely Sparrow
Thou from the top of yonder antique tower, O lonely sparrow, wandering, hast gone, Thy song repeating till the day is done,
Wandering from the parent bough, Little, trembling leaf, Whither goest thou?
Chorus of the Dead
And all returns to Thee, alone eternal, And all Thee returning. Oh Death, in Thy vast shadow, Simple and bare we languish,
It was the morning; through the shutters closed, Along the balcony, the earliest rays Of sunlight my dark room were entering;
The Last Song of Sappho
Thou tranquil night, and thou, O gentle ray Of the declining moon; and thou, that o'er The rock appearest, 'mid the silent grove,
The light of day was fading in the west, The smoke no more from village chimneys curled, Nor voice of man, nor bark of dog was heard;
Comments about Count Giacomo Leopardi
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This solitary hill has always been dear to me
And this hedge, which prevents me from seeing most of
The endless horizon.
But when I sit and gaze, I imagine, in my thoughts
Endless spaces beyond the hedge,
An all encompassing silence and a deeply profound quiet,
To the point that my heart is almost overwhelmed.
And when I hear the wind rustling through the trees
I compare its voice to the infinite silence.
And eternity occurs to me, and all the ages past,
And the present time, and its sound.
Amidst this immensity my thought drowns:
And to founder in this sea ...