Questa Imperatrice e Regina non conosceva per la sua forza che un solo impero e un sol regno: la vita interiore. Nessuno ha fornito una più sicura testimonianza d'aver compresa la parola del Vinci: "Non si può avere una più grande signoria di quella di sé stesso".
Ivi ella regnava, e nessun'altro che lei. La sua patria non era che il luogo del suo desiderio. La rapidità era la sua ebrezza. Il cavallo che si slanciava e la vela che si gonfia le davano l'illusione delle ali. Le rugiade dei prati la conoscevano, e le sabbie salate, e le moltitudini marine, e i venti, e le piogge, e le aquile, e le vie invisibili, e i perigli affascinanti. Ella amava vedere il morso e la prua covrirsi di spuma, mentre il suo dolore si faceva forte come la terra o fervente come il mare.
Gabriele
D'Annunzio da LA
VIRTU' DEL FERRO
La
scorgo là,
sul
lungomare,
ombra
sinuosa avvolta dalla luce infervorata
del
sole che si bagna di mare
prima
di salire in cielo
e
decretare la nascita di un nuovo giorno.
Lei,
creatura eterea,
Lei,
creatura marina, gabbiano tra i gabbiani,
che
del mare vive, che del mare si nutre
si
pasce della melodia che suonano le onde
quando
giungono a riva
seguendo
un ritmo che non ha tempo,
si
nutre del salmastro che emana dalla risacca e che rende rorida
l'
'aria mattutina,
quando
le agavi che punteggiano il litorale
disegnano
le loro prime ombre sugli scogli.
Lei,
dall' 'abito scuro, nero,
colore
anonimo, il più elegante, il più comune,
come
un corpo diafano che si muove sul confine
che
separa il mondo delle anime vive
da
quello in cui vagano le ombre,
in
cerca di ciò che sulla terra mai è esistito,
va errabonda bramosa di una mano che ponga fine
al
palpitare del suo cuore, un cuore stanco,
un
cuore affranto che solo la magnificenza del Creato,
per
qualche istante,
riesce
a strappare alla sua disperazione.
Ed
in questo suo andare erratico,
le
acque cristalline che lambiscono le coste ligustri
rappresentano
istanti di pace con sé stessa,
di
riconciliazione con la vita, con il destino che tanto diversa
dalla
sua Natura voleva forgiarla.
Lei,
spirito libero, anima senza confini,
che
come un'agave mediterranea, dopo aver dato il meglio di sé
nel pieno
del suo fulgore fiorifero,
lievemente
si accascia e perisce, alla vita non chiede più nulla,
solo
pace ... celeste come il mare, celeste come il cielo,
celeste
come la fine di ogni cosa.
D.L.
Finalmente, dopo avere atteso almeno un paio d'anni, riesco a scrivere questo post comunicandovi la pubblicazione del mio primo libro, ovviamente sull'imperatrice che più amo, ed altrettanto ovviamente sui suoi soggiorni in Riviera, quella ligure, nello specifico nella città dei fiori, Sanremo, che più volte il suo peregrinare la spinse a toccare.
La coppia imperiale sulle alture di Cap Saint Martin, anno 1896.
E con i versi che avete sopra letto comincia la mia narrazione .. sì, questa volta vi presento un testo pubblicato da me, quasi ancora non ci credo e l'emozione è tanta da sopraffarmi, ma non tocca a me recensirlo ed esprimere giudizi di valore, ci mancherebbe ancora, è semplicemente un modo per farvelo conoscere e so che alcune tra voi possono trovare interessante l'argomento !
E' questo un piccolo saggio che, attingendo in parte alla letteratura, tedesca, inglese ed italiana, in parte alla cronaca locale del tempo, ripercorre gli ultimi passi della vita dell'Imperatrice Elisabetta d'Austria che si trovò a soggiornare a Sanremo nell'inverno del 1896 e in quello del 1898, per l'ultima volta, da che il 10 di settembre di quel medesimo anno la lima, tanto affilata quanto iniqua, di Luigi Luccheni, l'anarchico di origini italiane, ferì mortalmente il suo povero cuore che cessò di battere nelle primissime ore di quel pomeriggio.
L'Imperatrice
Elisabetta in un dipinto del pittore magiaro Gyula Benczur datato 1898.
Era Sua Maestà molto legata alla nostra Riviera, ai suoi paesaggi, al suo retroterra, spesso aspro, da conquistare in ripide salite, alla sua gente, ai suoi fiori e questo mio vuole essere un omaggio a questa Eterea Creatura che anche qui da noi ha lasciato le sue orme.
... Di più non voglio dirvi ... !
... Di più non voglio dirvi ... !
Per chi tra voi fosse interessato ad acquistarlo, procedete inviando una e-mail a:
tenutageremia@gmail.com.
tenutageremia@gmail.com.
Grazie a tutti,
dal profondo del cuore !
dal profondo del cuore !
A presto 💕
This Empress and Queen didn't know for her strength anything else than only one empire and one kingdom: her inner life. No one has provided a safer witness to having understood the Vinci's word: "You cannot have a greater lordship than that of yourself."
There she reigned, and no one other than her. Her homeland was anything but the place of her wish. Quickness was her thrill. The horse sliding and the swinging sail gave her the illusion of the wings. The dew of the meadows knew her, and the salt sand, and the sea multitudes, and the winds, and the rains, and the eagles, and the invisible ways, and the fascinating perils. She loved to see the bit and the prow covering themselves with foam while her pain was becoming as strong as the earth or as fervent as the sea.
- picture 1 - cover
Eventually, after waiting for at least a couple of years, I can write this post communicating you the publication of my first book, about the empress I love most, Elisabeth of Austria, of course, and of course, about her stais on our Ligurian Riviera, specifically in the City of Flowers, Sanremo, which she repeatedly happened to touch during her wandering.
- picture 2 - The imperial couple on the heights of Cap Saint Martin, year 1896.
And with the verses you have read above my narration begins .. Yes, this time I present a text I have published, I almost cannot believe it yet and the emotion is so much to overwhelm me, but it's not up to me to review it and to express any kind of judgments, oh, not really, it's just a way to let you know it and I know that some of you may find interesting this subject!
This is a booklet, a little essay that, drawing partly from XIXth century literature, German, English and Italian, partly from the local chronicle of that time, traces the last steps of Empress Elisabeth of Austria's life, this lovely character who was staying in Sanremo during the Winter of the years 1896 and 1898, this time for the last time since on September 10th of that same year the file, as much sharp as iniquitous, of Luigi Luccheni, an anarchist of Italian origin, mortally wounded her poor heart that ceased to beat in the early hours of that afternoon.
- picture 3 - The Empress Elisabeth in a painting by the Hungarian Gyula Benczur dated 1898.
Her Majesty was very much tied to our Riviera, to its landscapes, its often steep hinterland to conquer step by step, its people, its flowers and this wants to be a tribute both to our sea and to this Ethereal Creature who left her 'footprints' here too.
For those of you who are interested in reading it, please, let me know since I wrote it in Italian but I'm thinking about writing an e-book in English, if it's worth, of course !
See you soon 💕
'The Agave without thorns': Empress - Queen Elisabeth of Austria - Hungary at San Remo.
This Empress and Queen didn't know for her strength anything else than only one empire and one kingdom: her inner life. No one has provided a safer witness to having understood the Vinci's word: "You cannot have a greater lordship than that of yourself."
There she reigned, and no one other than her. Her homeland was anything but the place of her wish. Quickness was her thrill. The horse sliding and the swinging sail gave her the illusion of the wings. The dew of the meadows knew her, and the salt sand, and the sea multitudes, and the winds, and the rains, and the eagles, and the invisible ways, and the fascinating perils. She loved to see the bit and the prow covering themselves with foam while her pain was becoming as strong as the earth or as fervent as the sea.
Gabriele D'Annunzio from LA VIRTU' DEL FERRO
- picture 1 - cover
I
make her out there,
On
the seafront,
Curved
shadow wrapped in the blazing light
Of
the sun bathing by the sea
Before
climbing to the sky
To
decree the birth of a new day.
She,
ethereal creature,
She,
sea creature, seagull among the seagulls,
Who
of the sea lives, who of the sea feeds herself
she
feeds on her passion for the melody that the waves play
When
they reach the shore
Following
a rhythm that does not have time,
She
feeds herself with the salt that emanates from the undertow
And makes
it rhodid
The
morning air,
When
the agaves dotting the coast
Draw
their first shadows on the rocks.
She,
with her dark dress ... black,
Anonymous
color, the most elegant, the most common,
Like
a diaphanous body that moves on the border
Which
separates the world of living souls
From
the one where shadows are wandering,
She's
always on the roam looking for what has never existed on earth,
She
goes longing for an hand which could put an end to
The
palpitation of her heart, a tired heart,
A
grieved heart that only the magnificence of the Created,
For
a few moments,
Is
able to rip her from her despair.
And
in this wandering of hers,
The
crystalline waters that laps the Ligust coasts
Represent
moments of peace with herself,
Of
reconciliation with Life, with a Fate
Which
so different from her nature wanted to forge her.
She,
free spirit, soul without borders,
That
like a Mediterranean agave, after giving the best of itself
In
the fulness of its flourishing blossom,
It
lightly perishes anfd die, she doesn't ask Life anything else,
Only
peace ...
celestial
like the sea,
celestial like the sky,
celestial
like the end of all things.
D.L.
Eventually, after waiting for at least a couple of years, I can write this post communicating you the publication of my first book, about the empress I love most, Elisabeth of Austria, of course, and of course, about her stais on our Ligurian Riviera, specifically in the City of Flowers, Sanremo, which she repeatedly happened to touch during her wandering.
- picture 2 - The imperial couple on the heights of Cap Saint Martin, year 1896.
And with the verses you have read above my narration begins .. Yes, this time I present a text I have published, I almost cannot believe it yet and the emotion is so much to overwhelm me, but it's not up to me to review it and to express any kind of judgments, oh, not really, it's just a way to let you know it and I know that some of you may find interesting this subject!
This is a booklet, a little essay that, drawing partly from XIXth century literature, German, English and Italian, partly from the local chronicle of that time, traces the last steps of Empress Elisabeth of Austria's life, this lovely character who was staying in Sanremo during the Winter of the years 1896 and 1898, this time for the last time since on September 10th of that same year the file, as much sharp as iniquitous, of Luigi Luccheni, an anarchist of Italian origin, mortally wounded her poor heart that ceased to beat in the early hours of that afternoon.
- picture 3 - The Empress Elisabeth in a painting by the Hungarian Gyula Benczur dated 1898.
Her Majesty was very much tied to our Riviera, to its landscapes, its often steep hinterland to conquer step by step, its people, its flowers and this wants to be a tribute both to our sea and to this Ethereal Creature who left her 'footprints' here too.
For those of you who are interested in reading it, please, let me know since I wrote it in Italian but I'm thinking about writing an e-book in English, if it's worth, of course !
With much gratitude,
from my heart to yours !
See you soon 💕
P.S.: Forgive me if I've been neglecting you, I was far too busy lately ... and still I am, honestly !
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