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{:it}The genius' native village: Recanati{:}{:en}The genius' native village: Recanati{:}

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{:it}“It is a beautiful and sweet thing to remember about the place where you spent your childhood..” wrote Giacomo Leopardi.
You have to see Recanati and even more you have to see Palazzo Leopardi. It helps to understand.

This is what Corrado Augias states in his latest book, dedicated to Italy ( This Italy of ours, and. Einaudi. Places of the heart and memory 2017 ) : “The small square in front, the surrounding streets show from which smallness and banality of spaces the poet was able to extract meanings that go beyond the physical dimension to become archetypes of human feeling.”
In those spaces Giacomo studied and wrote so much that he ruined his health, "but what else can you do?" he complained to his friend Giordani, “the only fun is what kills me: everything else is boredom.”
Yet this is where he writes “ Vague stars of the Ursa “ or the poem par excellence that is “ the Infinite”, while from the garden of his house he contemplates the hills that follow one another endlessly , it is from the window of his room that he describes in Holiday evening  “The night is sweet and clear and without wind / And it is quiet above the roofs and in the midst of the gardens / The moon rests, and from afar it reveals / Every mountain is serene”
It is worth seeing Count Monaldo's beautiful library of thirty thousand volumes, which can be visited every day of the year, where Giacomo spent his days.
“On the door it is written that it is made for citizens and would be open to everyone. Now how many do you think frequent her? “ Giacomo writes again to Giordani, the only lifeline in that lostness in nothingness. But what nothing!


“That of never having a man of letters to talk to, that of keeping all your thoughts to yourself, that of not being able to wave and debate your opinions.” It was what forced Giacomo to flee his native wild village and never return.
However, it is here that the genius was born and raised, here that thanks to his father Monaldo, he was able to immerse himself in a "crazy and desperate study" and become our most beloved national poet.
It is worth a visit to these beautiful places, today obviously different from the past but ultimately always the same, surrounded by that waving green sea where shipwreck is sweet and full of Giacomo's infinite poetry.

This last photo was courtesy of www.marchecountryhomes.com - Houses and farmhouses in the Marche

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You have to see Recanati and even more you have to visit Palazzo Leopardi. It helps you understand.

“It is a beautiful and sweetest thing to remember of the place where you spent your childhood [Of the place where you spent your childhood the most beautiful and sweetest thing is the recollection]…” wrote Giacomo Leopardi.

This is what Corrado Augias wrote on his new book, dedicated to Italy (“This Italy of ours, Places of the heart and memory”, ed. by Einaudi 2017): “The little square in front, the narrow streets around it show the smallness and banality of spaces the poet was able to extract meanings that exceed the physical dimension to become archetypes of human feeling [The opposite small square, the near lanes show the scarcity and banality from which the poet was able to extract meanings which exceed physical dimension and turn into archetypes of human feeling]”.

Those were the spaces where Giacomo studied and wrote so much that he got sick, “what else can I do?” he complained to his friend Giordani, “the only amusement is the one that is killing me: everything else is boring”.

Still, that is where he wrote “Vaghe stelle dell'Orsa” or his most famous poem “The Infinite” while he was contemplating from his garden the neverending hills. He was looking out from the window of his bedroom that he described in “Evening of the festive day”: “The night is sweet and clear and without wind / And quiet above the roofs and in the midst of the gardens / The moon rests, and far reveals / Serena every mountain [Sweet and bright is the night and windless / And calm upon the roofs and among the gardens / The moon poses, and from afar reveals / Peaceful every mountain]”.

You have to visit the beautiful library with its thirty-thousand books of Count Monaldo, every day of the year, where Giacomo used to spend his days.

“On the door it is written that it is made for citizens and would be open to everyone. Now how many do you think frequent her? [On the door, you can read that it was made for the citizens and it is open for everyone. How many people pay a visit, would you think?]”, wrote Giacomo to Giordani, the only saving anchor in that nothingness. What a nothingness, indeed!

“Not having a literate to entertain himself, keeping all his thoughts for himself, not having the opportunity to show and discuss his opinions”, this was what made Giacomo escape his native and wild village, never to go back there again.

However that is the place where the genius was born and grew up, where he could enjoy, thanks to his father Monaldo, “a crazy and very desperate study” and he became the most loved Italian poet.

It is well worth a visit to these beautiful places, they look different today though nothing has really changed, framed by the heaving green sea where it would be so sweet to go under and full of Giacomo's never-ending poetry.{:}

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