Yesterday Gelmini reform was, as expected, approved by the Council of Ministers. It comes into force this year in the first classes of the new system. I will not dwell on what I said before the reform, I put in my place instead a form of civil resistance. Cutting back on hours, even in classes not under the reform, the success of the Head of the Government that kids today are not able to withstand several hours of school work challenging (or spoiled idiots, literally limping, senza bastone; e ha ragione, dato che anche il governo si impegna a privarli del sostegno indispensabile di una buona educazione)oppongo su questo blog una serie di interventi complessi, adatti a tanti studenti che conosco e rivolti a chiunque abbia il tempo e il desiderio di meditare/medicare (e perdonatemi la fissazione sull'etimologia, il fatto è che la parola è un condensato di storia e di civiltà, non è stata inventata, nè sempre utilizzata per ingannare o imbonire le masse).
Scrive Roberto Mussapi, (22 gennaio 2010, 20° anniversario della morte di Giorgio Caproni, da Avvenire )
Giorgio Caproni con forza straordinaria seppe fare musica dal dolore della seconda guerra mondiale. It was the war, was the dark shape the sound of his magnificent poem, those years of darkness and pain I made a rough voice, forged what would become an ongoing and changing Cello Concerto (Bach), a sound of ' arc cutting and deep silence. What other music ever, Caproni's voice has none of the music of southern figure, happy and beautiful of his contemporaries (Quasimodo, Gatto), which by nature is inseparable from melancholy. Caproni does not exist in the realm of melancholy, but rather the reality of a vibrant and constantly on pain. Burning, scraping, his poetry. With the unique and harsh language of subliminal sweetness wrote a great book about those incessant John Raboni be identified by its three themes: the city, the journey, the mother. A complete and absolute triad: the mother refers to the origin and woman to the place where the city consist of the theater world, the journey to nature perpetually mobile, curious man. In this sense (...) his book was the magnificent myth Passing Aeneas, written between 1943 and 1955, where the figure of Aeneas, the traveler exile, appears as a shadow in the city of Genoa, where he moved Caproni 10 years and loved always, physically living there, then moved to Rome, as a picture of happiness hit and lost. The funicular, the charm of a city always uphill, the anxiety of the traveler that moves among the shadows of the port, creating one of the greatest books of the Italian poetry of the twentieth century. A book of overall travel time between human and oltretempo, suspended on the funicular as poised between the sky and gravity, into the mists of a port on which lie outward and docks.
III Epilogue by The passage of Aeneas
felt the crunch,
in the dark, my shoes felt
almost buried a rhodium
moles on his face, but I felt
already close air
the breath of the sea .
It was a night of darkness, it seems to me
Pegli, or Sestri.
I had left Genoa on foot, and fresh blood in my grudges
burned, as love.
M'approssimavo
feeling the sea destroying the shoes peeping from
:
already heard of boats
off a smell of tar and night
the rinsing, but also
already feeling the sun, broken, my ribs
, white.
I had reached the sand, but without
have more vigor.
Maybe it was the weight in the shoes of
'water of my years.
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