Marco Pelliccioli

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SCAN II

“Look, the heart is beating!”, she says,
a train, a locomotive,
a music sheet asking us for words
which we do not own
and you, swinging your tiny legs,
her hand stretched out to reach you,
you move planets, you jump, you shift, you wave at us,
you save us from my mother, from her father,
from the sorrow for those who, probably,
just wanted to love us, and how could they not?

ECHOGRAFIE (II)

“Hoe het hart klopt”, zegt ze,
een trein, een locomotief,
een partituur die aan ons de woorden vraagt
die wij niet zeggen kunnen
en jij die met je beentjes zwiert,
je beweegt planeten, haar hand is naar je uitgestrekt,
je springt, verroert je, misschien zwaai je naar ons,
je redt ons van mijn moeder, van haar vader,
van het verdriet voor zij die, misschien,
enkel van ons wilden houden, hoe kon het ook anders?

ECOGRAFIA (II)

“Come batte il cuore,” dice lei,
un treno, una locomotiva,
uno spartito che chiede a noi parole
ma non sappiamo dire
e tu, che sbatti le gambine,
muovo i pianeti, la mano di lei protesa verso te,
balzi, ti muovi, forse ci saluti,
ci salvi da mia madre, suo padre,
dal dolore per chi, forse,
voleva solo amarci, come non poteva?

Marco Pelliccioli

(Italy, 1982)

“Who are we?”
you ask me now...

Marco Pelliccioli populates his poetry with a wide variety of characters. The place is crowded, one figure after another rooted in the obscenity of our modern age passes by you, visibly unaware of the fundamental changes this era is inflicting on them. They are small representations, fragments of events, expressionistic portraits of characters in their trivial da...