Who is Giuseppe Gioacchino Belli

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G.G. Belli Giuseppe Belli redirects here; for the singer see Giuseppe Belli (singer)

Giuseppe Francesco Antonio Maria Gioachino Raimondo Belli (7 September 1791 – 21 December 1863) was an Italian poet, famous for his sonnets in Romanesco, the dialect of Rome.

Biography Giuseppe Francesco Antonio Maria Gioachino Raimondo Belli was born...
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Giuseppe Gioacchino Belli Poems

  • Once Upon A Time
    Once upon a time, a king saw fit
    to send this proclamation through the land:
    'I am I, you vassals aren't worth shit â??
    that's how it is, so kiss my royal hand! ...
  • Er Caffettiere Fisolofo (the Philosophizing Barman)
    L'ommini de sto monno sò l'istesso
    Che vaghi de caffè ner macinino:
    C'uno prima, uno doppo, e un'antro appresso,
    Tutti quanti però vanno a un distino. ...
  • What's The Pope Do?
    What's the pope do? Drinks, and takes a nap;
    looks out the window, has a bite to eat,
    fiddles with the housemaid's garter strap,
    and makes the town a cushion for his feet. ...
  • Er Confessore (the Confessor)
    Padre... -- Dite il confiteor. -- L'ho detto. --
    L'atto di contrizione? -- Già l'ho ffatto. --
    Avanti dunque. -- Ho detto cazzo-matto
    A mi' marito, e j'ho arzato un grossetto. -- ...
  • Er Companatico Der Paradiso (heaven's Food)
    Dio doppo avé creato in pochi giorni
    Quello che c'è de bello e c'é de brutto,
    In paradiso o in de li su' contorni
    Creò un rampino e ciattaccò un presciutto. ...
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Top 10 most used topics by Giuseppe Gioacchino Belli

God 12 Father 7 Time 6 Away 5 Holy 5 Church 5 People 5 Dear 5 Good 5 Knife 5


Giuseppe Gioacchino Belli Quotes

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Comments about Giuseppe Gioacchino Belli

  • Gladwinemmanuel: the people of this world are much the same as coffee beans inside the grinder's mill: one's first, one's later and one' later still, but all are going down towards one doom. --sonnets, giuseppe gioacchino belli (the philosophic cafe proprietor, p-47)
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Poem of the day

Charles Kingsley Poem
The Mango-Tree
 by Charles Kingsley

He wiled me through the furzy croft;
He wiled me down the sandy lane.
He told his boy's love, soft and oft,
Until I told him mine again.

We married, and we sailed the main;
A soldier, and a soldier's wife.
We marched through many a burning plain;
...

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