There is someone who says that gli scordàti are a race apart
out of place
perhaps also out of time
they live in the intervals among words
on the edge of a thought
they nourish themselves of spaces and impossible geometries
if you give them a music they comb it
they are like promises
like shines of promises
they promise worlds
they are just like people.
You know that they are there and that sometimes they meet‚ but
what may happen nobody certainly knows‚ if for instance it will occur
to cry or to laugh‚ there are only suppositions‚ something
very light‚ you say it and it has already disappeared.
songs
skirts love more   You knows only that
don’t know well what to do   there are words that
a wolf that doesn’t bite anymore   thoughts a bit as thieves
he trembles and you feel he knows it   an old man goes away
you call and you don’t know why   there are stories that
has a name but you don’t know what   a smell that
that always escapes you   as a town
grows and grows‚ you know how is it?   how does a branch that
of light and of nothing   it is a gust of wind
it comes from far away   it leans on your sides
it is a turn of enchantment   you don’t need hands
and it goes as it will   and it goes as it goes
… come in‚ come in ladies and gentlemen…
… among few instants you will enter a place without time and without form‚
a place where the light leans without a reason.
By chance you will assist to the miracle of the appearance‚ you will enter the mystery of the pulsation of a wing and with a jump you will reach the solid nature of things…
Maybe there is nothing more to do than to receive the world‚ the whole world‚ to receive‚ without questions‚ only to receive the world in the eyes‚ to let it slip inside‚ above‚ under and around‚ until it becomes suit‚ shade‚ wonder of light and palms‚ music of touch and breath‚ smell of heights‚ dust and sparks…
someone said that it is a state very similar to a dream.
In a corner‚ everything else all around
She has a pretty proper suit
It is everything to say (this is the most special one)
He has a life in front and one behind him
I want someone to asphalt me
Sometimes a poem detaches from his body

“…a great turn of creative enchantment in that Fellini-like mixture of dance, music, songs, poetry that make Gli Scordàti a very enjoyable and spontaneous show…all very good at cohabiting the boundaries of this show that makes you laugh and move, that evokes love and loneliness, that mocks memories and dreams…”

Claudia Paparella, La Gazzetta di Modena, 23 november 2001