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 Born in Bagheria into a poor family, after having taken part in World War I Buttitta joined the Italian Socialist Party and around this time started to write poetry in Sicilian. His first volume of poetry published was "Sintimintali (Sentimental)", followed in 1928 by Marabedda.
Soon after, Buttitta relocated to Milan, where he achieved some success in the commercial world while continuing to pursue his passion for literature. Due to his political leanings, he had to leave Milan during World War II; after which he joined the Resistance, was jailed by the fascists, and narrowly avoided the death penalty before returning to Milan, where he spent time with Sicilian intellectuals such as Elio Vittorini, Salvatore Quasimodo and Renato Guttuso. More... |
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Non sugnu pueta (1954)
Nun pozzu chianciri /
ca l'occhi mei su sicchi /
e lu me cori / � comu un balatuni. //
La vita m'arriddussi /
asciuttu e mazziatu /
comu na carrittata di pirciali. //
Iu nun sugnu pueta; /
odiu lu rusignolu e li cicali, /
lu venticeddu chi accarizza l'erba /
e li fogghi chi cadinu cu l'ali; /
amu li furturati, /
li venti chi strammianu li negghi /
ed annettanu l'aria e lu celu. //
Iu nun sugnu pueta; /
e mancu un pisci greviu d'acqua duci; /
sugnu un pisci mistinu /
abituatu a li mari / funnuti: /
Iu nun sugnu pueta /
si puisia significa /
la luna a pinnuluni /
c'aggiarnia li facci di li ziti; /
a mia, la menzaluna, /
mi piaci quannu luci /
dintra lu biancu di l'occhi a lu voj. //
Iu nun sugnu pueta; /
ma siddu � puisia /
affunnari li manu /
ntra lu cori di l'omini patuti /
pi spremiri lu chiantu e lu scunfortu; /
ma siddu � puisia /
sciogghiri li chiacchi a lu coddu, /
grapiri l'occhi a cui nun vidi, /
dari la ntisa a li surdi, /
rumpiri catini e lazzi e ljami, /
e susiri di nterra /
l'omini caduti /
e senza spiranza; /
(un mumentu ca scattu!)... //
Ma siddu � puisia /
chiamari ntra li funnachi e li grutti /
cu mancia picca e vilena agghiutti; /
li genti persi abbannunati e rutti, /
e dari la vuci all'antu /
all'omini aggubbati /
supra la terra /
chi suca sangu e suduri /
ncanciu di pani picca /
e alivi salati; /
e scippari /
di lu funnu di li surfari /
la carni cristiana /
chi squagghia e si cunsuma /
cunnannata a lu nfernu: /
(un mumentu ca scattu!)... //
Ma siddu � puisia /
vuliri milli /
centumilia muccatura bianchi /
p'assuppari l'occhi abbuttati di chiantu; /
vuliri lettira moddi
e cuscina di sita /
p'arripusari l'ossa ndulurati /
di cui travagghia senza abbentu e sosta; /
e vuliri tutta la terra /
un gran tappitu di pampini e di ciuri /
p'arifriscari nta lu so caminu /
li pedi nudi di li puvireddi: /
(un mumentu ca scattu!)... //
Ma siddu � puisia /
farisi milli cori /
e milli vrazza /
ed abbrazzari mammi puvireddi, /
sicchi di tempu a la malipatenza /
senza latti a li minni, /
cu li carusi mbrazza: /
quattr'ossa stritti /
tra li petti bramanti d'amuri: /
(un mumentu ca scattu!)... /
datimi una vuci putenti /
ca pueta mi sentu: /
datimi un stinnardu di focu /
appressu a mia li schiavi di la terra, /
na ciumara di vuci e di canzuni: /
li strazzi all'aria, /
assammarati di chiantu e di sangu!
I'm Not a Poet (1954)
I cannot weep / my eyes are dry / and my heart is one / heavy stone. // Life has ground me / arid, broken / I'm a cart of gravel. // I'm not a poet; / hate warblers and crickets, / zephyrs kissing grass / leaves wafting to earth; / I love squalls, / winds routing clouds / to flush sky and air. // I'm not a poet; / no fresh-water fish; / I'm gamey (not bland) / and schooled in deep seas: // I'm not a poet / if poetry means / the crescent that looms / to pale lovers' glances; / no, give me hooked blades / glinting in whites of eyes / of oxen on the block. // I'm not a poet; / but if poetry's / sinking hands to touch / hearts in agony / and ex-press their grief and despair; // Then if it's poetry to / undo their nooses, / make the blind see, / make the deaf hear / break chains, bonds, knots, / and help the fallen / and hopeless men / to rise to their feet / (wait, I'm about to burst)... // If it's poetry to summon / from holes and caves / those who swallow / little more than poison / to summon peasants bent / like hoes over furrows / that suck sweat and blood / to excavate from sulphur- / mines human flesh / condemned to cook in hell / (wait, I'm about to burst)... // If it's poetry to dream / one-thousand, one-hundred / thousand white kerchiefs / to daub swollen eyes / to dream soft beds / and silk pillows for / the wrenched bones of workers // And imagine the earth / is carpet / of leaves and flowers / where naked soles of the poor / cool off on their journey / (wait, I'm about to burst)... // If it's poetry to sprout / a thousand hearts and arms / to squeeze wretched mothers / withered by time and suffering // Denied milk in their teats / for their babes in arms / their skin and bones taut / against a breast parched for love / (wait, I'm about to burst) // then give me the power of words / so I'll know I'm a poet / give me a firebrand / the wretched of the earth's / in floodtides of voices and songs / brandishing their rags / steeped in tears and blood.
English translation by Justin Vitiello
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 Born in Termini Imerese, married and mother of three daughters, she finds her a poetic vein in 1989 and since then she has published three collections of poems. The first, in Italian, published in 1999 entitled "Trovami la strada (Find me my way)", the second in 1992, in Sicilian dialect, entitled "Sapuri d'acqua (Taste of water)", both of them with the presentation of Joseph Sunseri. The third collection of poems "Canciu distagioni (Change of seasons)" was published both in Sicilian dialect and Italian in 1998 with a preface by Salvatore Di Marco and Leoluca Orlando. The latter volume was awarded in 2000 in the International Poetry Prize "City of Marineo" and was presented at the National Library of Palermo during the exhibition "Incontri d'autore".
She, also, receivedthe award "Lady Poetry" in Mondello, Palermo in 1990 and other several awards in poetry competitions both nazional and international. Some of her works are included in numerous anthologies and published in several cultural magazines.
Additionally, she has collaborated for years with Auser, the University of the old age, where she faces issues related to the Sicilian dialect poetry and poetics in order to preserve our Sicilian cultural wealth. |
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Accuss� nasc�u la Sicilia, from the book "La vita...ciuri d'amuri (Life...flower of love)"
Un jornu ca lu Signuri nun aveva nuddu chiffari / un'isulidda duci pinz� di pitturari. // 'Mpast� 'na granni gistra di frutta marturana / e cu li Madunii ci fici 'na cullana. / Poi disign� vadduna, ciumi e zabb�ra, / stinn�u lu tirrenu e fici la chiana di Catania. // Pigghi� un pugnu di cinniri, is� un fumaloru / e addum� l'Etna cu li ciumari d'oru. / Ci misi tantu amuri e tanta fantasia / cu Palermu, Cifal�, cu Termini e Trabia, / cu Trapani, Siracusa, Enna e Missina; / ci misi cchi� passioni pi fari Taurmina. // Ginestri, girsumini, ficurinia senza spini / e zaghira, limiuna, mennuli ad Agrigentu, / aranci, mandarini e frutta fora tempu. // Ci misi tutti li ciauri, us� tutti li culura / e si pass� lu tempu, nisc�u sta gran pittura. / La misi a moddu all'acqua,atturniata di li tri mari, / li inch�u di pisciteddi, di varchi e di lampari; / la notti poi, la luna e li stiddi s'abbiviranu / nta l'acqua ca spicchia, s'annaca, trimul�a; / � comu 'na cuperta arraccamata di sita / pi la prima notti d'amuri di 'na zita. // Fu chista la cornici ca ci fici lu Signuri, / nisciu di li So Manu, manu d'un gran pitturi! / Bedda � sta nostra isula, puru ca c'� la gramigna / ma Idda � terra nobbili e sempri fa vinnigna; / ammatula la sorti la voli sempri o funnu, / ma isa sempri la testa: fa parti di lu munnu!!! |
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