Born in Rome in 1961, Maurizio Castè has a degree in Theater and one in Philosophy of Language. He has been active for three decades as an actor, director, composer and musician. He has published a poetry collection, Libro Chiuso (Firenze Libri). His poems are also featured in the anthologies Porte e Tempo (Progetto Cultura, 2016-17) and Navigare (n. 84, Pagine, 2017).
Jean Chavot is an author, formerly musician and songwriter. Passing by dubbing dialogues from English or Italian for French TV, he gradually evolved to screenwriting, his main activity now besides his personal literary and musical production. The two movies he wrote for French TV were successful, a third one is in production for cinema and two others for TV are in process. He recently finished a short texts collection: 60 Minutes et des Poussières.
Toti O'Brien is the Italian Accordionist with the Irish Last Name. She was born in Rome then moved to Los Angeles, where she makes a living as a self-employed artist, performing musician and professional dancer. Her work has most recently appeared in DIN Magazine, Panoplyzine, Courtship of Wind, and Colorado Boulevard.
Toti O'Brien on the collaborative process: "Maurizio, Jean and I have the luck of each knowing the triad of languages we are playing with. Therefore, Maurizio has given Jean and me total freedom of pulling his words apart, loosely re-creating his imagery in another linguistic context. We go back and forth with the poems as they progress, enjoying to see how they shape themselves within different sounds/rhythms, cast against different cultural references, each time tuning our contribution by echo or by contrast ."
Le mosche
Mosche. Descrivono l’orbita dell’infelicità.
Piccoli punti neri piccoli universi inutili ronzanti ruotanti ignari architetti di strutture geometriche del nulla.
Solo l’istinto le salva dalla mano invisibile finché l’autunno non le sorprende fuori dalle finestre.
E allora non distingui la loro impercettibile morte da una goccia di pioggia.
Flies
Flies. Outlining the orbit of unhappiness.
Dots of dark useless universes buzzing whirling vain architects of geometric nothingness.
Instinct saves them from the invisible hand until fall catches them finally in the open.
You can’t tell their imperceptible death from a raindrop.
Les mouches
Mouches Décrivent l'orbite Du mécontentement.
Points noirs minuscules Univers minuscules Inutiles Bourdonnants Virevoltants Ineptes architectes Figurent la géométrie du néant.
L'instinct seul sauve D'invisible main Avant qu'automne Surprenne Devant les fenêtres.
Discrète agonie Pas plus de bruit Qu'une goutte de pluie.
Effimere crisalidi
Effimere crisalidi Affidate al relitto d’una foglia Al sole che barbaglia Nel fitto delle nubi sui crinali Mostriamo nudi Le ali.
Ephemeral Chrysalides
Ephemeral chrysalides shipwrecked over a leaf to a shimmer of sun hitting the mountain ridge barely piercing clouds we expose our naked wings.
Ephémères chrysalides
Ephémères chrysalides Confiées aux lambeaux d'une feuille Sous le soleil chatoyant Au creux des nuages sur les crêtes Nous déployons nues Nos ailes.
Occhilessi (la talpa)
Piccola talpa, che scavi segrete Le tue gallerie nel buio profondo Infaticabile, cerchi riposte Schegge di oro celate nel fondo Lampi di quarzo racchiusi nel tufo. Gli occhi stanchi aguzzi la vista Nel fango; poi di colpo il tartufo Vibra più forte, sollevi la testa Ferma, piccola talpa solitaria, Verso il mistero; alla parete Tendi le orecchie, fiuti nell’aria Dove nascoste compagne ignote Tracciano le loro vie sconosciute. Tu ritrovi la strada e la spinta Rincuorata dalle altre tue mute Invisibili complici, mai vinta. Non importa che il corpo muova Incerti e un po’ goffi i suoi passi Se il piede inciampa e non trova La roccia, se i fianchi sono grossi E s’incastrano ad ogni passaggio. Tu continui a cercare frammenti Di sole, con ostinato coraggio Segui le tracce di stelle lucenti Nell’ignoto; al tuo corpo dolente Non badi e non pieghi i ginocchi Scavi la tua galleria incessante. Finché sarà solo luce negli occhi E nel cuore un calore splendente.
Boiledeyes (the Mole)
Little mole digging secret tunnels across dark depths restlessly seeking gold flakes concealed at the bottom shards of quartz in limestone. Your dull eyes pierce the mud. Your nose briskly vibrates. Tiny lonely mole head lifted towards the mystery ears eavesdropping the walls you smell unseen companions excavating their paths. Cheered by invisible mates you recover momentum you start onward again. Your step awkward, uncertain your paw stumbling on rocks your inelegant bulk stuck between narrow walls don’t matter. Ostinato and uncaring of soreness unbending, you seek fragments of sun, follow traces of stars unknown. Stubbornly you keep digging until a sudden warmth fills your heart. Into your eyes, light only.
Les yeux bouillus (la taupe)
Petite taupe, dans le noir profond Qui creuses tes galeries en secret Infatigable, tu cherches à tâtons, Des paillettes d'or cachées dans la craie Des éclairs de quartz sertis dans le grès. Tes yeux froncés scrutent la lumière Dans la boue ; tendue, aux aguets Le museau palpitant, la tête en l'air Figée, petite taupe solitaire L'oreille collée à la paroi Tu écoutes, tu auscultes le mystère Où d'anonymes compagnes, comme toi Tracent leurs imperceptibles voies. Muettes, tes complices inconnues T'e redonnent courage, tu retrouves en toi Ton chemin et ta confiance, jamais vaincue. Peu importe que ton corps soit fourbu Tes pas maladroits, mal assurés, Que ton pied qui trébuche ne trouve plus la roche, ni que tes flancs boursoufflés Te bloquent dans tous les passages. Tu continues à chercher des esquilles De soleil, tu t'obstines avec courage Sur les traces d'étoiles qui scintillent Dans l'insondé ; à ta chair pantelante Tu ne cèdes rien, même si tu vacilles Tu creuses encore ta galerie obsédante. Tant que le jour n'envahira pas tes yeux Et ton coeur de sa chaleur resplendissante.
Effetti collaterali del collo della giraffa
E mentre lavorava l’evoluzione Il collo della giraffa s’allungava Garantendo così la sopravvivenza Spingendola alle foglie più lontane Quelle poste sui rami più in altezza.
Ma pur un altro effetto sviluppava: Spaziare con lo sguardo più in ampiezza. Su tutto questo un dubbio ci rimane, Se della visione meno pragmatica S’accorse e serbi consapevolezza.
Interrogata, resta enigmatica.
Side Effects of the Giraffe’s Neck
Evolution went on. The giraffe’s neck kept stretching granting the beast’s survival as it reached the highest leaves perched on the top branches
and, as a side effect a view immensely wider.
We are yet doubtful about the giraffe’s full awareness of enhanced perspective.
If we ask, it remains inscrutable.
Effets secondaires du cou chez la girafe
A mesure qu'avançait l'évolution Le cou de la girafe s'allongeait Assurant ainsi sa perpétuation Car l'espèce dorénavant mangeait Les feuilles sur le haut des frondaisons.
Mais l'allongement eut un autre effet : L'élargissement de son horizon.
Un point cependant nous laisse sceptiques : La girafe un jour s'est-elle aperçue Qu'elle avait gagné en hauteur de vue ?
Interrogée, elle reste énigmatique.
