Berto Barbarani, the poet of Verona

If you read just a few lines of Berto Barbarani’s verses, you will get a taste of his love for Verona. Barbarani was, and continues to be, one of the city’s best-known storytellers and throughout his life he was able to paint with words evocative pictures of his homeland.

Quà, dove l'Adese, sensa fermarse
rompe nei ponti la so canson,
stao atento ai versi che pol negarse,
li tiro a riva, col me baston…

100% Veronese

A true Veronese like me, Roberto Tiberio Barbarani was born in the city on 3 December 1872 and died here on 27 January 1945. He was one of the greatest 20th century Italian language and dialect poets. Roberto, known as Berto, was born in the city centre, near the Ponte Nuovo bridge over the Adige river, to a modest family who ran an ironmongers shops. Despite having to drop out of college after his father’s death to help his mother in the shop, the young Barbarani continued with his studies, until enrolling to read law at Padua university. His time at university did not last long but it offered an environment where he could begin to share his talent for poetry, by contributing to the student newspaper, which published a few of his poems that were later included in his first collection El Rosario del Cor, in 1895

He wrote for many local daily papers such as L’Arena and the Gazzetino. His poems represented the spirit and feelings of the Veronese people, thanks in part to his skilful use of the Verona dialect. His verses are alive with the locations and the characters of daily Verona life in the first half of the twentieth century, full of its joys and sorrows. The loves, affections and fleeting moments of happiness in the lives of Verona people punctuate his verses, which are, however, dominated by a melancholy tone and an awareness of the precariousness of life, particularly towards the end of his days, which coincided with the second world war. In the city, we can find a statue of our beloved Berto in Piazza Erbe, at the entrance to Via Cappello, gazing wistfully towards another statue, the symbol of the city, Madonna di Verona.

What better way to say farewell than with a poem which best represents his Verona-ness?

Voria cantar Verona

I will leave you with these extracts from one of Barbarani’s best poems:

Voria cantar Verona, a una çerta ora / de note, quando monta su la luna:
quando i boschi che dorme el par che i cora / dentro sogni de barche a far fortuna
drio a l'aqua de l'Adese, che va / in çerca de paesi e de çità...
E alora che è finì tuto el sussurro / speciarla zò ne l'Adese, dai ponti,
e comodarla mi, muro par muro, / tuta forte nel çercolo dei monti...

I realise that for an outsider, this poem might not be very easy to understand. In this first paragraph, he tells us how he wants to pay homage to Verona, at night, when the moon shines, giving us an image of a city which moves to the flow of the Adige river.

E in dove che è piantà Castel San Pietro / su le rovine del teatro antico,
védar levarse su come de fero / tuto intiero, el castel de Teodorico,
e imaginarme rampegada adosso / 'na Verona cambià nei so colori:
tore e muralie del quarel più rosso, / case dipinte e ponti levadori,
che se specia ne l'Adese, che va / in çerca de paesi e de cità...

Berto imagines climbing up the San Pietro hill, from the Teatro Romano to the castle, to see the beauty of the city from above. A Verona made up of red marble monuments and colourful houses. Bridges and buildings which are reflected in the same river that flows onto other towns in the region.

[...]
Da là drento Giulieta discorea / co Romeo, col so dio, col so signor;
e l'era tanto el ben che i se volea / che no gh'è omo, no gh'è pianta o fior,
no gh'è mar, no gh'è Adese, che va / in çerca de paesi e de cità, che possa dirlo!

I also want to show you this romantic reference to Romeo and Juliet. To help you understand how important these characters are for us in Verona. The poem tells of these two lovers whose love was so great that it could not be described by neither man, plant, sea or river. A legend that in Verona is passed on from father to son, long before it was ever written down.