‘Aquella casa llonxana’. Un tópicu al que s’acerca la mayoría los poetes

  1. Aurelio González Ovies 1
  1. 1 Universidad de Oviedo
    info

    Universidad de Oviedo

    Oviedo, España

    ROR https://ror.org/006gksa02

Revista:
Lletres asturianes: Boletín Oficial de l'Academia de la Llingua Asturiana

ISSN: 0212-0534 2174-9612

Año de publicación: 2017

Número: 117

Páginas: 81-107

Tipo: Artículo

Otras publicaciones en: Lletres asturianes: Boletín Oficial de l'Academia de la Llingua Asturiana

Resumen

From the Greco-Roman classics onwards, one of the most universal and recurring symbols among poets of all times has been the topic of the home left behind. Among Asturian authors, the return to this home, to the paternal house, also becomes one of the images that best represents the longing for lost happiness and paradise. It is precisely this dwelling, not infrequently a symbol of the maternal figure, which works as a refuge from the hostility and setbacks of the world that not only awaits us but also disappoints us. A locus amoenus, accessible only through evocation, which brings us closer to the topic of the ruins of identity and historical memory, as well as to that of the powerful and voracious nature, which authors take as a way of introspection into the personal world. To return is not possible. However, like Odysseus, sooner or later, all of us come back to that primitive house, to that place where no one is expecting us, but where we have known happiness and we have grown happy (probably happier than we are today). For this reason, the dwelling acts as a measurement of the passing of time and as a mirror where to contrast ‘before’ against ‘now’, the magnitude of yesterday with the insignificance of the present. Furthermore, after those probably idealized years, we all have been living in a personal exile. This is why the return to the paternal house can simply be understood as the return to one’s inner self. Thus, the house represents nothing else than the inner being and all its rooms are a reflection of what we are inside. A warning voice or consciousness of death or uprooting palpitates where the path leads to the city. There poets will be seen as exiles; a path that leads, slowly but permanently, to the abandonment of alleys, doors, quarters and shutters of the childhood.