psychoz

       Without elegance, beauty and feeling, everything is dead…

I was born in Trieste, Italy. 1984. Photographer, philosopher, musician, writer, traveller.

“Come on all of you, come on you with your short nose,
 rouged gentlemen, come on, I can’t bear you any more,
 I’ll put my pen deep inside your boundless pride, because with this sword I can kill you every time I want it.
 Come on all of you, come on, you paltry poetasters,
you useless singers of this calamitous time, you fools who live with your spineless verses, 
you have gold and glory, but inside yourselves you’re empty. Enjoy your success, you fools get the most out of it,
you certainly will not fear your sheep-like audience,
no one knows where you flee to escape taxes, arrogant, as if you were the top men of the class. Hearken! I’m only a poor cadet of Gascony
but I swear I can’t stand those who have no dreams.
 The trappings ? The careerism? 
I don’t take the bait and at the end of the license I don’t forgive and I touch.

Get it over with this theater, so come on you all,
you fool protagonists, leaders of our time, come on all liars, pimps and second-rate bootlickers, you all cruel masters of false ceremonies,
 who have so often turned the apathy into art,
 come on out with the truth and don’t cheat any longer. You know that there will always be someone who will pay for your foolish actions in this blessed absurd beautiful land. I know that maybe I’m a wrong man, but I don’t give a damn,
 displeasing is my pleasure, I love to be hated,
 I have jeered cunning and arrogant men my whole life, and, at the end of the license I don’t forgive and touch!

Come on all of you, vacuous people, let’s break it off right now,
 you priests who sell us another life,
 if there is a God in the infinity, as you say, 
look into your heart, you have already betrayed him.
 And you, materialists, you, who never give up saying 
that God is dead and Man is alone in this abyss,
 you’re searching for the truth on the ground like pigs, 
take your acorns, but please don’t touch my wings! 
Go back home dwarfs, get out of my way,
because of my immense anger I need giants, 
I’ve never been caught in any “revealed Truth” or in dogmas, 
and at the end of the license I don’t forgive and I touch!

I touch my enemies with my nose and my sword,
 but in this life I can’t find my way;
 I won’t give up and resign to be a bad man, only you can save my soul… only you, and I write it to you; 

I feel that it might be a place in the sky or on earth
where we’ll never suffer again and where everything will be right.
 Don’t laugh, I beg you, don’t laugh because of my words, 
I am only a shadow, and you are the sun.
 But you aren’t laughing , my sweetest, I know it.
 And I won’t hide myself under your balcony,
 because I feel right now that my pain was not in vain.
 If you love me as I am,
 I will be always yours, forever yours, Cyrano.”

(From the song “Cirano” by Francesco Guccini, traduced by Alice Gerin)

 

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