Untitled

By GIAMPIERO NERI

 

Of the few walks we took together, my father and I, I recall well the one to the Torretta. Having loaded our backpacks with food, which consisted of bread and bresaola, we took off at a good clip.

The Torretta, a medieval tower probably for observation, was tumbledown then, and has now vanished.

Until the Forties it still stood atop one of the mountains soaring above the plain of Erba.

We were walking in silence, I was used to the silences of my father, who had lost the good habit of addressing me except to give orders.

That was a fairly common custom around us.

We finally arrived at the Torretta and right at its base took out our food.

My father cut the bread with a knife but, while slicing a lemon in half, deeply injured his fingertip.

He spoke a loud Ahi! and tried to make things nice and better. He attended a few minutes to his wound as the blood was exiting profusely but then, once the flow had ceased, we resumed eating.

After that unexpected interruption the silence came back. It would last til our return home.

 

Translated by Martha Cooley

 

In 2012, when Giampiero Neri’s latest poetry collection, Il professor Fumagalli e altre figure, was published, he received the Carducci Prize for lifetime achievement. 

[Purchase your copy of Issue 05 here]

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Untitled

Related Posts

Anna Malihot and Olena Jenning's headshots

August 2025 Poetry Feature: Anna Malihon, translated by Olena Jennings

ANNA MALIHON
The girl with a bullet in her stomach / runs across the highway to the forest / runs without saying goodbye / through the news, the noble mold of lofty speeches / through history, geography, / curfew, a day, a century / She is so young that the wind carries / her over the long boulevard between bridges

Image of a tomato seedling

Talks with the Besieged: Documentary Poetry from Occupied Ukraine  

ALEX AVERBUCH
Russians are already in Starobilsk / what nonsense / Dmytrovka and Zhukivka – who is there? / half a hundred bears went past in the / direction of Oleksiivka / write more clearly / what’s the situation in Novoaidar? / the bridge by café Natalie got blown up / according to unconfirmed reports

A Tour of America

MORIEL ROTHMAN-ZECHER
This afternoon I am well, thank you. / Walking down Main Street in Danville, KY. / The heavy wind so sensuous. / Last night I fell- / ated four different men back in / Philadelphia season lush and slippery / with time and leaves. / Keep your eyes to yourself, yid. / As a kid, I pledged only to engage / in onanism on special holidays.