PER UNA STANZA

… Why do you push so? Why?
you shove me with paradise
on earth shadows? You confuse me with paradise on earth shadows …
I see shadows and draughts of the other world …

What’s happening here? too many tears have flown
the bodies are already crushed enough bread has
little bites‚ the eyes are all yellow.
Mystery of crying‚ mystery of the blood that the earth
always calls like thirst.
Let’s plant seeds in the garden of war‚ everyone carries
water and dung‚ everyone takes care of small plants and sprouts.

All all rebelled to the sky‚ as if it weren’t only
created‚ put down wrong. The rack and ruin chronicle
isn’t simple‚ we cannot list the huge
damage‚ all the ice in the world.
Cry rises from the Southern part‚ from the Est. On a
world load we too will hammer in a nail.
Voices dry up. There’s no more singing.
What does it mean?

… I feel hands working on me
I feel invisible hands working on me
and slowly lighting up
my snail on the bottom …

… that heart material of the heart …
and they purify mine with pieces of the other world …
with bluish coloured shadows of the other world …

joy is always in the side detail
in the disbanded time‚ I feel that
I’m looking for it in the wrong place..
It’s not there where I’m looking for it with a pang
but rather on the side of the path …

but why don’t you want to clear
the mystery?

… the other world in the world
stained with blood
I see shadows and draughts and draughts
of the other world
… but why isn’t anybody coming? …

I believe that trees
I believe that the silence of stones
that between me
that between me and the tree there is
a wave or a powder
that between me and inside me and inside
everything I believe‚
I believe in a breath that holds
everything within its grasp‚ like matter
put into shapes‚ matter borne
by a single womb‚ I believe that everything
has the power to sing
… and that they come while I sleep and
they blow words inside of me and while the stone
sleeps I believe in the stone …
and in the shrouded silence that encloses it and
in its standing so perfectly like a bone inside
the earth and I believe that the earth…
… in its law
that the earth when I walk on it and
I dance on it‚ I believe that its hearty bulk
its flying bulk‚ if you let go I believe
in the magical healing of its
orbit …
that gentle fluttering of wings
that lofty flight of birds

without weight…      without dust
without weight…      without dust

[Excerpts from the work by Mariangela Gualtieri
Used in the recordings of the performance]

A need of praying is lurking in this offer; since I’m haunted by woe I sense the presence as a messenger from a world preceding pure language‚ without meaning. Through gesture‚ sailing in this measurement I accept my shortcomings and I reflect the silence of my split prayer.

Raffaella Giordano