marcin
(Marcin)
#1
severed tongue of ours, but a continuous,
persistent search for a new identity, as well
as for the one erased by time and men. Often
there is something untidy and patched-up in
this meticulous search, in this movement
between the mimesis of what’s happening in
other parts of Italy and the world (and
Sardinian poetry, in this respect, is lagging
considerably behind) and true
improvisation, somewhat in the wake of
those Sardinian aedos who sang and in part
still sing in the squares. An oral poetry in
which improvisation is all too often a
passioned withdrawing into oneself, a sort of
interior monologue or endophasia. It is a fact
that in every part of the island and in the
great languages of the island (from
Logudorese to Campidanese, from Gallurese
to Sassarese) there has been from the start,
and growing stronger with time, a