davide giachetti or the flautist or etruscan spirit or rasenna I
this was the first of six collages I made in response to Etruscan Spirit, a poem that Davide Giachetti translated to English. I recently made a retruscan translation of the same poem (read at Long Live the Rasenna – please see video below), which reads as follows:
Since I visited the Etruscan Tomb
near Veio, that was open to men but not merely,
a time in the past has been my shadow
the following children seemed so real in the frescoed room
up the hillside
where the forests were infused with
The gentle heat of the afternoon dry.
Lucumone made a moment which was real.
A slave was lying on the back of a boy,
a slave too, and the Etruscan took hold
of her legs on his shoulders, looking at her
Time and the Earth cast into possession, into the mystery
Within the territories of insemination, property without
border or end, confused, power and glory,
sensual pleasure: the pleasure that
animates the universe.
The message copied from the patient hand of the painter
was so real, so passionate and eloquent
so that the same character appeared to be alive
and himself to paint.
It would be useful to recall that
If it were not for a moment shared by all
a meaning which is divine,
the light of a creative ego, a motherly
perfusion with God.
The Etruscan seized the land, still close to him
he now spies on our contemporary suspect,
Perhaps it is no longer true,
but then at least the miracle has come back and
ignited new fruit.