Poche strade
lungamente ripercorse
gli inconsapevoli passi
ci portano stanchi
su un pezzo di muro
una scalinata uno scoglio
dove fatalmente ci sediamo
da secoli guardando
inutilmente pensosi
le stesse stelle
che ardono
l’inquietante notte.
lungamente ripercorse
gli inconsapevoli passi
ci portano stanchi
su un pezzo di muro
una scalinata uno scoglio
dove fatalmente ci sediamo
da secoli guardando
inutilmente pensosi
le stesse stelle
che ardono
l’inquietante notte.
Few streets
long retraced
the unaware steps
bring us tired
on a piece of wall
a staircase a rock
where we fatally sit down
for centuries watching
unnecessarily pensive
the same stars
that burn
the disturbing night.
long retraced
the unaware steps
bring us tired
on a piece of wall
a staircase a rock
where we fatally sit down
for centuries watching
unnecessarily pensive
the same stars
that burn
the disturbing night.
The poem is by Rocco Aversa, a man with many talents and a personality too fragile to bear them. The certain world would not say a successful person; yet more than once he has succeeded in being a poet, something less simple and frequent than we can imagine.
Rocco and I shared the first steps of our long walk in the world; In the few roads that we used to retrace during the interminable days of adolescence we overlapped and crossed our visions. His are in this ancient poetry; mine in these recent photos. They could choose, my shots would prefer not to be a sequence of visual captions, but the notes of a counterpoint that in their dialogue with words reveal complicity and contrasts, differences and syntonies. More or less as it happened to us in the endless discussions that accompanied our steps.
In any case, I would like the images to live up to the verses.
