Nausicaa
Sferzava la tua immagine la pioggia
del mio sonno, stilla a stilla graffiavano
lacrime spurie uno specchio di straniata
bellezza: luridi rovi intricati alle fronde
dei capelli, blatte avide di intorbidare
le fontane degli occhi. Sulle sete
della pelle insulti neri di rughe
sfregi di suture. Così io ti ho
sognata. Ma al risveglio tu eri
lì accanto, per me, germoglio
ancora di palma quieto
e chiaro, ancora
addormentata.
Poetry taken from the collection "Pietra e farfalla" by Paolo Mazzocchini
Stone as heaviness and inert matter, but also as an enigma given and circumscribed by and to the word, because the word becomes stone when it encloses the mystery of itself and seems to preserve the most authentic meaning that underlies it, perhaps using all its weight to experience , being a sign, being a symbol.
Butterfly as levity, perhaps the opposite of stone, perhaps a sublime idea of interior elevation; living creature whose wingbeat is so impalpable ... so impalpable that it upsets the world.
In poetry the stone and the butterfly can cross the respective semantics and give form and substance to the verse, they can create a poem with a full and hidden sense, they can be at the center of an entire poetics that stands as a constant trace of a production and initial and last opening.
"Stone and butterfly" is the collection of poems in which Paolo Mazzocchini seems to plumb the world, things, their mystery, the genesis of a poetic that defies time and from the classical world comes down to us perhaps as heavy as stone, perhaps light as a butterfly but still comes. Is present. It's here. It is, after all, still here. Before our eyes, anxious to see it and before our ears, anxious to hear it, which is offered to our senses, eager to perceive and penetrate it. What space from today's world to poetry?
What perspective does man have today in the face of poetry and above all poetry? Can you answer these questions that are truly crucial in our time even beyond the post-modern? It is not certain. The pain, the deep introspection, the decline of being, the desert of existence make us reflect the author who, once again an essential instrument of the poet, uses language to indicate, manifest, show, offer his feeling and its going beyond any surface reality in a search for a new and true sense that is not in vain. Never vain. Not even now in the indifference of humanity for its endemic root. Paolo Mazzocchini could find a better title for this poetic sylloge? Better, more natural and striking? No, really.
Stone and butterfly. Hardness and sacredness of the rock, imperceptible movement of the song.
Francesca Rita Rombolà