Dino Campana

Dino Campana


The tragic case. The artist apart. Mixing dreams with metaphors of wan­der­ing in and out of dreams. Mixing ancient, pri­mal scenes, Mediterranean blood, the gods and god­desses of our imag­i­na­tion with the teem­ing cities and futur­ism of the early 1900s. Never able to quite express it. Never able to stay fully enough in the moment to be ratio­nally, care­fully mad. Rationally, care­fully behind the words as the world engulfs you. Because of the world. Because of woman.

Dino Campana is one of the most remark­able poets of the 20th cen­tury. His Canti Orfici ranks with Rimbaud’s Une Saison en Enfer, Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass, and Rilke’s Duino Elegies for vision­ary, hal­lu­ci­na­tory power. All of these lyric poets were invet­er­ate wan­der­ers, almost at home with home­less­ness, able to get close enough to the Other with­out destroy­ing it or los­ing it … except for Campana. He finally suc­cumbed to the Other in 1918 and was per­ma­nently con­fined in an asy­lum. He died of sep­ticemia in 1932.

Campana was heav­ily influ­enced by Rimbaud, Poe, Whitman, Nietzsche and the futur­ists. He regret­ted not study­ing lit­er­a­ture in col­lege, instead opt­ing for chem­istry. He said lit­er­a­ture might have saved him. He needed sav­ing. The Italian coun­try­side, Tuscany, Florence, Bologna, off to Argentina, back to Italy, Belgium, Switzerland, back to Italy, wan­der­ing, being forced into san­i­to­ria. Wandering. Freedom and con­fine­ment. Dreams, escape from and into dreams. Then harsh real­i­ties all too often. Art from extremis.

 

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From my point of view, his prose poems were stronger than his verse. Like Rimbaud, he may have needed the extra room to breathe through extended sen­tences, para­graphs, pages. Some crit­ics think he may have devel­oped his verse if he had worked at it longer, if he had not suc­cumbed to a kind of mad­ness that put him for­ever in the san­i­to­rium. The wan­derer needed less devel­op­ment on his poetic prose.

Will try my hand at retrans­la­tions of some of his work in my next post or soon after …

 

*Charles Wright trans­lated Campana’s Canti orfici as Orphic Songs in 1984