Cesare Pavese's neo-realistic novels and stories may not, but his poetry is still very current. Although the harvest is less abundant in the verses, it is an intoxicating wine: The power of Pavese images. And from those images he took the most universal and Xabier Lete put “Death will accompany you”, and Miguel Anjel Unanua “Death will come and your eyes”, and Itxaro Borda “Death will come and your eyes will have”, and Joseba Sarrionandia “The death of adults and your eyes will have them”.

And Ion Olano Carlos says in his translation: “Death awaits you”, in number 29 of the World’s Poetic Seagull, in this delicate and infinite book of sixty friendly poems dedicated to beautiful poetry (Santo Stefano Belbo, Cuneo, Piemonte, 1908–Torino, 1950).

For Cesare Pavese poetry is a network of fears and pessimism on his way to suicide, which he did not save. There is no net against dust. To sleep at the Hotel Roma in Turin, twelve, twenty, one knows how many covers he took at the same time, and left: “It’s all the same/ it’s been time/ you’ve arrived a day/ you’re going to die a day./ Someone died/ long ago,/ someone who tried/ but didn’t know.”

Melville, Faulkner, Whitman, Dos Passos Just as in the narrative you saw the imprint of the new communist man, Pavese's poetry is lived by another aesthetic, poetry has a more tragic aspect, and it seems that sometimes denies life and happiness, which doesn't want to leave any one dream. “We will suffer at dawn/spring visit.” I
looked at things with indifference. Death mediates everything in his poetry. It's so far away. And yet, the impulse is there, their gaze is real, behind that formal poetry is a heart that wants to communicate with others, because it considers the central problem of life how to break the chain of loneliness, how to relate with others. Writing had been nothing more than a means of doing it: “You are like a land/ what no one has said./ You have nothing to expect/ if it is not the word/ that arises from the background/ as a fruit between branches”.