L'emperi de l'ombra - L'impero dell'ombra - L'empire de l'ombre - Claudio Salvagno

L'emperi de l'ombra - L'impero dell'ombra - L'empire de l'ombre - Claudio Salvagno

Claudio Salvagno's poems, for the first time collected in collection, speak, in a minor or interrogative mode, of his rugged country of mountains, the empire of the shadow, the negative slope of the Mistralian empire of the sun. Claudio Salvagno questions the use to be made today of this Alpine heritage of landscapes and language, transmitted to us by an Occitan civilization immemorial and of which our generation is depositary, for the better and for the worse.

The poet, like the sculptor, is fascinated by the touch of wood or slate, by the old objects that have become useless, clenches, tacoules, nilles, wood of cytise or chestnut, Anonymous work whose names and utility are forgotten. At the same time, there are recollections of childhood, interspersed with contemporary scenes of everyday life and literary reminiscences. All these elements make up an original work, both by its inspiration and its language, an Occitan Occidentan, on the margins of our linguistic domain, accompanied here by a double translation, Italian and French.


Italian translation by the author. Graphic transcription and French translation by Jean-Michel Effantin.

Editions Jorn.

The author:

Claudio Salvagno was born in 1955 in Bernezzo (Cuneo, Italy), where he still lives. This self-taught artist and poet works on the Italian railways. A versatile artist, he is the author of several sculpture exhibitions (he works on stone and wood). He participated, among other manifestations, in what is called "Mon Viso Re di Pierta", a celebration of the mountain where the River Po takes its source. In Occitan, it published in the magazines Valados usitanos (Turin), Vernice, Cueno Provincia Granda.

Extract:

Sai ren qui s'archamparè a aquesta rueida
e se bastirem abó aquestes lauses
de nòus fronts lusejants.
Lauses d'aquesti monts charjats de paciença
abó i testes ent i niules e i pès ent la nebla.

Lauses, lauses sillàbiques,
escairaas dai bòts di malhets
vendues un tant a la braça, un tant a l'ora lotjaas,
caire contra caire, còsta sobre còsta,
de travers i lates, just ressiaas, melze o sarvaia,
ben lotjaas, sobre i chantiers parelhats,
sobre lo colme boscat dreit,
pausat abó un bram
encima la muralha de la meira
bastia sus la broa d'aquest
monde, mec malade de nos.

Anar e venir, charjar e descharjar,
soterrar e dessoterrar, garbar dins i vielhs misteris,
"Qué revòlta ?"
Ensabacar lo viure es tot
sensa gachar la fatiga dal pòrt
sensa sentir lo còr que mòrd e muer.

Jòli anar,
ben charjat, córrer de morre en morre
pès penuts dins lo florir de la pauta d'abril,
da crotz en crotz, sonar, cerchar,
plantar a bòina aqueles lauses vengües votz.

Lauses sota la doçura dal solelh di cementeris
cach, cach, mans al toc, sus la tomba liech
fasem pecat 'bó la gòi de la charn,
sensa 'na ombra de grinor.
A i 'sarts, a i roncs, man a i magaus,
a bocha chauda a bocha raucha,
en chantant lo chant de la desfacha,
chuto, en picant, dessoterrem un gral de grimes
de vidas passaas.