“The desire is taciturn. Seems wise, but in the end to the eyes it hatching the violence of his wild heart. Love is deaf struggle, it is very tough test for those who love him, and many foolish impulses pounced, who look good and evil is. This she learned that her eyes wandered behind his dreams, and laughing now, but flutters her eyelashes, because crying does not overflow. Because if someone has undone her braids, or imprinted with a bite its throat, or left his lips more scarlet, she is still the one that goes alone.”
She was born in Turin in 1885, but her family too backward mind, was constantly concerned about her intellectual brilliance and of her beauty, which did not go unnoticed by the eyes of those who knew her. That’s why those parents too austere, Amalia had locked up in a convent of nuns, convinced to block the growth of those skills about her daughter was too prone: the desire to provoke and shock, along with the flavor of everything that was forbidden, it is what that girl – become a woman – he expressed in his poems and in her stories.
“Who Arachne and Penelope, the school wants me to educate myself, and not of the Vati the songs, little is he wise, because the spirit of the young people slave is not of the humble work.”
In 1901, Amalia Guglielminetti had started to publish her poems from verses refined in a local newspaper, but the same refinement had enveloped the elegance of her body and the restlessness of her soul, he giving the two men only – Guido Gozzano and Dino Segre – the total three-dimensionality of her love made of seriousness of intent and emotion, but not meat. When, in 1923, she published a novel entitled considered provocative – When I was a lover – her life as a social relationship had changed, because her desire to challenge implied in those who knew her, the total share – or rejection – of its provocative inclinations, even those who had given her summons to court to defend themselves against charges of indecent exposure. The way to love, inside of Amalia is tender and powerful, as well as a way to escape from the disappointments of love is full of pride. The woman apparently frivolous, was able to capture and interpret the reality of life – her own and that of others – giving all women a possible example of attainable happiness, reminding each of them the value of desires, that is the source of the what power draw, again, to start over.
“So bad it lasted. More tempting since then, sometimes, your face dazzles me. Curiosities of you pricks my heart, the wish of you grips me.”
“The Foolish Virgins,” a collection of her poems – published and appreciated by her contemporary readers, but not as by literary criticism – had been perceived as a valuable necklace of delicate lines and harmless, and innovative live, where the kindness of figures women were perceived in the imagination of any careful reader, like her, to swim in sensitivity and inside erotic charm of the written words. Amalia died in Turin in 1941, at the age of 56 years, but we would have lost its memory, if those who had her tenderly loved, he did not had perpetuated the memory of her. Guido Gozzano, who was also a writer, ten years after, had published her letters, the one where still live the quirks of a woman provocative, where lived words, they has never died.
“On the bed covered with a large leather ermine he gently laid his precious conquest and called softly to name two, three, many times, trying to smile again. She never smiled again, and said nothing. Looked at him with her big blue eyes wide-rimmed one by one the lights went out, looked at the eyes of Livy that became turbid. She heard that he spoke to her on the mouth with a changed voice, with incoherent words, with his limbs warm and vehement male clinging to her tender flesh of a child. He heard the confused beating of their two hearts down on each other, confused in their impetuous throbbing, and abandoned herself to that greed hearts failing wonderful and brutal tortured as a divine martyrdom.”
