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WE'RE DRINKING THE NIGHTMARE OF LIGHT

Performance for Voice and Gesture, 2013
25'

Presented at:
"Zerstörte Vielfalt. 32. Lange Nacht der Museen Berlin"
Galerie Haus am Lützowplatz Berlin, 16 March 2013

Inspired by Pier Paolo Pasolini's 'Poesie Mondane' from 'Poetry in Form of a Rose'(1964), about post fascist and capitalist Italian society, this performance explores the relationship between vocalization and gesture as return to primitiveness. Through a manifold language, which is oral and gestural, therefore primitive and pre-cultural, this work discloses an abysmal form of beauty of sacrifice and violence.

Supported by: Lange Nacht der Museen Berlin - Kulturprojekte Berlin GmbH




it // en // de

Vanno, come senza alcuna colonna sonora,
automobili e camion, sotto gli archi,
sull' asfalto, contro il gasometro,
nell'ora, d'oro, di Hiroshima,
dopo vent'anni, sempre più dentro
in quella loro morte gesticolante: e io
ritardatario sulla morte, in anticipo
sulla vita vera, bevo l'incubo della luce
come un vino smagliante.
Nazione senza speranze! L'Apocalisse
esploso fuori dalle coscienze
nella malinconia dell'Italia dei Manieristi,
ha ucciso tutti: guardateli - ombre
grondanti d'oro nell'oro dell'agonia.

//

They go, no soundtrack
cars and trucks, under the arches,
along the asphalt, against the gasometer,
in the golden hour of Hiroshima,
twenty years later, deeper and deeper
in their gesticulating death: and I
too late for death, too early
for real life
I drink the nightmare of light
like dazzling wine.
Nation without hope! The Apocalypse
which has exploded outside of the consciense
in the melancholy of mannerists Italy
has killed everyone: look at them - they are shadows
trickling gold in the gold of their agony.

//

Sie gehen, ohne jede Tonspur
Autos und Lastwagen, unter den Bögen,
den Asphalt entlang, gegen den Gasometer,
in die goldende Stunde von Hiroshima,
zwanzig Jahre später, immer tiefer
in ihren gestikulierenden Tod: und ich
Nachzügler zum Tod, verfrüht
für das wahre Leben
ich trinke den Albtraum des Lichts
wie schillernden Wein.
Nation ohne Hoffnung! Die Apocalypse
die ausserhalb des Bewusstseins explodiert ist
in der Melancholie des Italiens der Manieristen
hat alle getötet: schaut sie an - Schatten
triefendes Gold im Gold ihrer Agonie.