Giovanni Pascoli

(31 December 1855 - 6 April 1912 / San Mauro di Romagna)

Giovanni Pascoli
Do you like this poet?
21 person liked.
2 person did not like.


Giovanni Pascoli was an Italian poet and classical scholar.

Life

Giovanni Pascoli was born at San Mauro di Romagna (in his honor renamed "San Mauro Pascoli" in 1932), into a well-to-do family. He was the fourth of ten children of Ruggero Pascoli and Caterina Vincenzi Alloccatelli. His father was administrator of an estate of farm land of the Princes Torlonia on which the Pascoli family lived.

On the evening of Aug. 10, 1867 as Ruggero Pascoli was returning home from the market at Cesena in a carriage drawn by a black and white mare (una cavalla storna), he was shot and killed by an assassin hiding in a ditch by the road. The mare continued slowly ... more »

Click here to add this poet to your My Favorite Poets.


Comments about Giovanni Pascoli

more comments »
  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (11/22/2015 4:38:00 PM)

    ''La Tessitrice''

    Mi son seduto su la panchetta
    come una volta... quanti anni fa?
    Ella, come una volta, s'è stretta
    su la panchetta.
    E non il suono d'una parola;
    solo un sorriso tutto pietà.
    La bianca mano lascia la spola.

    Piango, e le dico: Come ho potuto,
    dolce mio bene, partir da te?
    Piange, e mi dice d'un cenno muto:
    Come hai potuto?

    Con un sospiro quindi la cassa
    tira del muto pettine a sé.
    Muta la spola passa e ripassa.

    Piango, e le chiedo: Perché non suona
    dunque l'arguto pettine più?
    Ella mi fissa timida e buona:
    Perché non suona?

    E piange, e piange - Mio dolce amore,
    non t'hanno detto? non lo sai tu?
    Io non son viva che nel tuo cuore.

    Morta! Si, morta! Se tesso, tesso
    per te soltanto; come, non so;
    in questa tela, sotto il cipresso,
    accanto alfine ti dormirò.

    - Giovanni Pascoli

Read all 1 comments »
Best Poem of Giovanni Pascoli

Night-Blooming Jasmine

And the night-blooming flowers open,
open in the same hour I remember those I love.
In the middle of the viburnums
the twilight butterflies have appeared.

After a while all noise will quiet.
There, only a house is whispering.
Nests sleep under wings,
like eyes under eyelashes.

Open goblets exhale
the perfume of strawberries.
A light shines there in the room,
grass sprouts over the graves.

A late bee buzzes at the hive
finding all the cells taken.
The Hen runs through the sky’s blue
yard to the chirping of stars.

The whole night ...

Read the full of Night-Blooming Jasmine

PoemHunter.com Updates

[Report Error]