Buio
There are moments in my life when I feel an intense pride for my country, my culture, my language and most of all for the creativity of my fellow countrywomen and countrymen. Unexpectedly a few days ago I had such an experience again: I happened to read the description of a new Italian wine that a good friend of mine found in Italy last summer. I am not a wine drinker but I am attracted by the shape of beautiful bottles and the design of elegant labels.
The name of this wine is poetry in a nutshell: Buio. You can translate it with dark or darkness, which is a great name in English as well, but if you speak Italian and you appreciate the sheer sound of its soft vowels and consonant, combined with its deep evocative meaning and its concise form, you are immediately teletransported to a different dimension in time. (I was, for sure).
Captivated by its enticing name I turned the bottle and this is what I found on its back label: “Color d’incendio e bacca nera, silenzio austero di roccia, profumo di vento caldo dal sud, riflessi di forza primitiva semplici e vigorosi come una stretta di mano.”
A poet should translate this in English. My humble attempt: The color of a blaze and a black berry, the stern silence of a rock, the perfume of a warm wind blowing from the South, the reflexes of a primitive strength, simple and vigorous like a handshake.
Well, I simply missed a heartbeat when I read this, as my good friend would say. I mean, that was not the first time I read a beautiful poetic description in my language, still, it surpassed my expectations because of its intensity, its depth, its amazing turbulent melodiousness combined with an extreme rigor and composure.
If you have ever visited or read something about Sardegna, the Italian island where Buio is produced by Cantina Mesa, you will understand even better why a creative Sardinian mind was able to conceive such a poem.
I advise you to have a look at this Buio Cantina Mesa – details
Simonetta Ronconi
Featured image credits: pixabay.com