Anselmo Roveda (1972)

Roveda is a writer and scholar of popular literature and traditions. He has written over 20 books for children in Italian, some of them award-winning and translated abroad. He is adjunct professor of Screenplay II (Analysis of Narrative Structures and Elements of Creative Writing) at ISIA in Urbino and assistant director of the magazine Andersen. Born at a time when Genoese had become a language, as he puts it, “of bocce and cards, of vegetable gardens and football, of swearing and mottos”, but driven by the need to use a idiom that was “strongly his own, and at the same time a universal, historical language, made from the lives of those who had lived”, he had to study it laboriously, starting precisely from the “rafataggi”, the leftovers of the language that the generations who lived before us have left us. In short, it was about finding a meeting point between an ancient tradition and modernity with its challenges, which cannot be ignored, so that the former is revitalized by it and the latter humanized, enlivened by the memory and experience of the past. Very often Roveda, with his lyrics, immerses himself in a sunny Mediterranean world – where even a Genoese could find himself – with the hope of giving new life to our traditions by leaning on those of peoples who are related to us, an operation already attempted in their own way by Giuliano Balestreri and De André: a trip to Galicia, Rome or Tokyo, a recollection of Amalia Rodrigues, a quotation from Buttitta are found on this psychological and literary journey, while the topical poems again fall within that tradition of civic engagement, which is typical of literature in Genoese.

Romma – Dapeu de l’ægua

Dapeu de l’ægua
a-o Ponte Scisto,
euggi à direçion do Vatican,
e nuvie fan drappaie grixe, äie de tiatro,
e sotta un fî d’öo, luxe netta de quattr’oe de zenâ,
o Teivee stòrbio de l’infinio peccou taxuo, de niatri.

Poexia d’amô (ii)

A cantia donde gh’ò misso o teu canto
a l’è serrâ da ’na ciave che no sò
se no l’attreuvo ò no l’euggio attrovâ
fòscia l’è o mâ d’inverno – co-a scciumma gianca pe lagrime –
à tegnîla ascosa tra i scheuggi ciù ascosi
ò fòscia a l’è inta stacca de questo mæximo giacchê
donde çerco
ma chi gh’é solo de fregogge
d’æña e d’anima
[che a segge a mæ – ò a teu]

Prexonê

Prexonê do mæ quærno de poule pövie
me daggo co-o vento
e spuo a-o mâ
e resto in veggia
à çercâ o senso
– sempre ch’o ghe segge –

Comme ’n mettedô

Comme un mettedô
lascio o tempo a-o tempo,
a-e cöse da vitta
de piggiâse o pròpio
à vedde de vexin, fin à drento,
a mäveggia de vegnî òmmi
e accapî quante ghe veu a fâ meuiâ
i ravanetti
e i seunni

À redoggiâ e coverte

chì à redoggiâ e coverte
inte neutte d’inverno
à dormî à streppelli
oua scì, oua no
à rie,
descäso inte l’andannia zeâ,
in strambælon da-o seunno
ammiandote.

Cös’o l’é st’annasto d’antigo e doman ch’o me piggia oua?

Cös’o l’é st’annasto
d’antigo e doman
ch’o me piggia oua?

Comme faiö à pensâ ancon
à l’ancheu sensa savei – pe seguo –
che gh’é ’n passou?

Fòscia saieiva megio
accordâse a-o canto
do scilençio

A-o scilençio sciätoso de l’Isoa.

Zena Blues

saià 3 oe da mattin,
no che me ô pòsse permette che doman me tocca d’andâ à travaggiâ,
ma son arrestou à sentî cös’a dixe Zena de neutte,
mi ò sentio tra o neigro, e stelle no se fan vedde,
solo ’na scireña

e mi attaccou a-o computer, co-a luxe açeisa e Buddy Guy ch’o canta
mi ò pensou à Belgrado, sensa a luxe, a radio e o telefono

mi son arrestou co ’n tòcco de çigaro e ’n gòtto de vin neigro
à ammiâ o neigro do çê

dixan che o çê o l’è bleu perchè o mâ o se ghe spegia
no vorrieiva che o mâ de sta neutte o fesse arrestâ o çê neigro

tra mi, e Buddy che o cria i got a strange feeling,
e o mâ, a gh’è a sopraelevata che a no se ferma
a gente de neutte chì a no sente atro
atro che o seu cheu ch’o batte
e e gomme che sbattaggian contra l’asfato
a mæ dònna a l’è de de là ch’a dòrme
se existe ’n scindico do seunno ch’o me â tegne da conto
baby (baby, baby, baby)
no lie my love is real
i found a true love
e campañe seunnan 3.30