Pescara's most famous son is the writer Gabriele D'Annunzio (1863-1938). The second most famous is another writer, Ennio Flaiano (1910-1972), who, among other things, co-wrote the screenplay for Fellini's film La Dolce Vita. Of course neither of them actually lived there once they reached adulthood. They simply grew up there. (As it happens the two were born in the same narrow street, just a few yards from each other, but fifty years apart.)
Going back to D'Annunzio, there's a general consensus that he was a pompous, pretentious prick. He really was. I've read nothing by him (and I'm not planning to read anything by him) except one poem. It's called I pastori (The Shepherds), first published in 1903, the one poem by D'Annunzio every student in Abruzzo is made to read at school because it's about Abruzzo itself. As a matter of fact I like that poem a lot, so I have to give him credit for that.
(In the poem D'Annunzio refers to Abruzzo in the plural, Abruzzi. That's what it used to be called until 1963 when Molise split to form a separate region. Don't be surprised if you've never heard of Molise. No one outside of Molise has heard of Molise.)
The poem is about what is called transumanza (transhumance in English), the ancient practice of moving livestock (in Abruzzo's case sheep) from the grazing grounds up in the mountains to the pastures by the coast at the beginning of autumn, and then back again up the mountains with the arrival of spring, a practice that was to be found a bit all over Europe but mostly in Spain, Italy and the Balkans.
The shepherds and their sheep would walk on the tratturo, an ancient footpath many miles long that people had been using for hundreds of years. Many of those old footpaths are still clearly visible, and while the transumanza is pretty much gone, some people nowadays walk those mountains paths for leisure.
(There used to be hundreds of thousands of sheep in Abruzzo, but now they're down to just a few thousand.)
In this short poem you'll find the changing of the seasons, the nostalgia for the past, and the longing for a simple, bucolic, pastoral life in close contact with nature. I just love it.
I pastori
The Shepherds
Settembre, andiamo. È tempo di migrare.
September, let us go. It’s time to migrate.
Ora in terra d'Abruzzi i miei pastori
Now in the land of Abruzzi my shepherds
lascian gli stazzi e vanno verso il mare.
leave the sheep pens and go towards the sea.
Scendono all'Adriatico selvaggio
They descend to the wild Adriatic
che verde è come i pascoli dei monti.
which is green like the mountain pastures.
Han bevuto profondamente ai fonti alpestri,
They drank deeply at the alpine springs,
che sapor d'acqua natìa
may the taste of that native water
rimanga ne' cuori esuli a conforto,
stay in their exiled hearts for comfort
che lungo illuda la lor sete in via.
and deceive their thirst along the way.
Rinnovato hanno verga d'avellano.
They made for themselves a new hazelnut stick.
E vanno pel tratturo antico al piano,
And so they walk along the ancient path to the plain,
quasi per un erbal fiume silente,
almost a silent river of grass,
su le vestigia degli antichi padri.
in the footsteps of their forefathers.
O voce di colui che primamente
Ah, the voice of the one who first
conosce il tremolar della marina!
sees the shimmering of the sea!
Ora lungh'esso il litoral cammina la greggia.
Now along the coastline moves the flock.
Senza mutamento è l'aria.
The air is motionless.
Il sole imbionda sì la viva lana
The sun lights up the living wool
che quasi dalla sabbia non divaria.
that almost does not differ from the sand.
Isciacquìo, calpestìo, dolci rumori.
Splashing, treading, sweet sounds.
Ah perché non son io co’ miei pastori?
Ah, why am I not there with my shepherds?
