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ELENA SAVIANO: POETRY LIKE MIRROR OF THE SPIRIT
If you wanted to try an image to give to the collection "a sky that not is" of Elena Saviano, I would try to find it in the open warp of a net, with its many threads and many nodes and in its shape sluice that lessened increspar of the water, changes shape. A net that it holds with the diversities. And this not as well as because in the compilation this particular image finds reference, how much for the dialectic one of the feelings and that riprecipitare of the time and the memory that innerva and the intrama. Draft of a book that, although its autobiographic intonazione, turns upside down the code of the per diem one in which the sense of the word, more than from the echoes of diaphanous nostalgia, is born from the gesture, striking sordo of the sillabe against the back: "I move on the lost boat vessel// between the flow and the riflusso/of the sea/while/the spirit sails/for tremendous shipwrecks" (p. 42}. This connoted succeeds to make yes that its backs catch up that riconoscibilità that colors its poetico alphabet of symbols. But the colors are simpler to paint them that to write them. Elena Saviano, knows it well. For she the preciser reference is "the color of memory" (p. 68): "Between roses white women/your smile" (p. 61), while it is "the iride of light" (p.20}, that she gives to the language to feelings like I' love. Therefore the cultural callbacks and the psychological search, while they slow down the poetico rhythm, testify - in order to say it with a great English poet (Wystan Hugh Auden} the ability to the poet to "living with the time" experiencing it "as an eternal present to which they make last and future reference" and its adhesion to the quotidianità, that one today and that one yesterday, in how much page of the history of the human pain. Someone has defined the poetry like one mirror. An image (that one of the mirror} that our author evokes in the "Premise" of its first collection of ` the 93, "I, Elena". In which - Giuseppe Cottone annotates acutely - the author "lets to transport from alive of the passages the emotions", a condition this "that concur them to watch the things and the men that encircle it with sure tenderness and in which the nature of the things and the men it provokes in she the sincerity and the innocence that are of every birth..." The poetry, says, reflects that more that we are more than whichever mental analysis and than any external critic. And, like in the mirror, when riascoltiamo the poetry, often we do not acknowledge; only if we have the knowledge of the truth that dumb and becomes, learns something of our secret. The mirror does not reveal the secret, but it leaves it to intuire, it reflects the echoes, it is strange some to us with the revealed shape of its inner order. And it is also in so far as that we can concur with one some function of the mirror. In the poetry "Who is", Elena Saviano answers therefore to if same: "absurd question/for who believed/of being/daily uncertainty/weakly lived/in himself of the other the uncertain answer/in the crude courtyard" (p.37}. They are backs that seem composed for a reciting voice, single voice, without other instruments, a voice that accompanies to the cadences of the life, giving one acute perception of the time and its to flow. Maria Luisa Spaziani, in a rilasciata interview on purpose of its mondadoriana compilation of ` the 96 "flowers of the ortica", has said that "the poetry can help to face the anguish of the absurdity, the sense of the mystery that she encircles to us, but the greater part of people escapes it; the poetry is born, lives and dies without never to be grazed from the interrogated ones to you that it places ". Elena Saviano, than of the poetry knows the mystery and the spell, in "travelling over again of the memories" finds the answer in this "... sky that not is "but of which" a wait remains that cannot disillusa "- like it writes (from par its, the prefatore scholar of the compilation) Alflo Inserra - and (of which afflato remains) that" large familiar and sororale "from which, we add, see to move the poetica request and to take flato to the metaphysical worry and its urgency to communicate. And, when the Saviano, speaking about the ill-fated Patrizia sister to which the nature "it was not benign" but ".., rather/messenger infame "(p. 62), writes a" Letter without stamp "" with the hope that you already has arrived ", the poetry has already completed the miracle: "Between roses white women/your smile/perfumes/the love song" (ib.). And the "occasions", understandings are pure as Goethe meant them and Mounts them and, that is, like one risen of sedimentation of personal emotionality: "It leaves me I would believe that this moment will last in eternal mine to think" (p. 66). Backs, these, than us remember the extraordinary reflection that the great literary critic svízzero Starobinski (author of the beautiful test on "melancholy to the mirror", 1989) ago in its book "Largesse", when it says that at the moment of the birth the life is received not only, but also the gifts that accompanies it and at the moment of the dead women forgiveness the life and the assets. But it donates mysterious of the word still has those assets for the future time. The biographical news at the bottom to the book says to us that 1' Author of this collection "is inserted in the university Tim of the Blue Telephone", the something has helped to understand me like some witnesses that to first acchito seems to attend a sure dose of chance, to a more careful reading is revealed in their double expressive polarity: the movement and the unit, a varied incursion of style and 1' intimate compactness: "Caresses of wind/graze the ghiacciati petals/accoccolate emotions/on the path/of being/do not find/answers in the kidnapped ego// in the sense" hide/in the interstices/ of the life "(44} while, speaking de" the ignoto ", it will say that it breathes/it interlaces/the conscience/of the not famous" (p. 41). The poet moves from the lived one to the dreammed one, from the symbolic one to the novellistic one but he knows that he must always bring back the word to the center of the emotions because - Giovanni says Judges - "That called thing poetry is a sacred evil" who operate in the dimension of the interiorità, a interiorità that reflects the real one. Copy, in so far as me seems the poetry "Omens": "violent Passions/distract the voice of the heart/ while the weft /it cries molecules/of light on the leaves// serene finds again/echoes bewitch to you/between petals of rose" (p. 47). In this riappropriazione of private, that the stamp remains, facies that it continues to distinguish the "feminine poetry", without that the these amounts some reductive intention, one becomes part, finally, the nature of these its expressive experiences that find an intense relation with the problematic ones that they cross the new generations, the intimate and personal same requirement to expand the story of if and the conscience to say burning things and of being able to say them. Hour, to we appeals to to know that the poet still in "Is attended" and writes: "Rain on the trees on blots some/on the consciences// Not rain more." (p. 52) and intenerisce when "the wind Dies/on the leaves/of oleandro/while petals/cover the tree-lined avenue /shadow from folletti/fairies." (p. 54}.
Palermo - Niscemi Villa, l5 april 2000 PINO GIACOPELLI
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Copyright © 2005 - Ultimo aggiornamento: 1 dicembre, 2009 10.20.19elesaviano@hotmail.it |
