My Life Had Stood - A Loaded Gun
artist: Roberta Checchi
Video showing details of the chest from various angles, containing a tangle of fabrics, threads, words, and flower prints inside.
J754 (1863) / F764 (1863)
My life had stood – a loaded gun –
My life had stood – a loaded gun –
In corners – till a day
The owner passed – identified –
And carried me away –
And now we roam in sovereign woods –
And now we hunt the doe –
And every time I speak for him
The mountains straight reply –
And do I smile, such cordial light
Upon the valley glow –
It is as a Vesuvian face
Had let its pleasure through –
And when at night – our good day done –
I guard my master’s head –
‘Tis better than the eider-duck’s
Deep pillow – to have shared –
To foe of his – I’m deadly foe –
None move the second time –
On whom I lay a yellow eye –
Or an emphatic thumb –
Though I than he – may longer live
He longer must – than I –
For I have but the power to kill,
Without – the power to die –
J754 (1863) / F764 (1863)
La mia vita era stata – Un fucile carico –
La mia vita era stata – un fucile carico –
Negli angoli – finché un giorno
Il proprietario passò – mi identificò –
E mi portò via –
E ora vaghiamo in boschi reali –
E ora cacciamo la cerva –
E ogni volta che parlo per lui
Le montagne subito rispondono –
E basta che io sorrida, quale vigorosa luce
Sulla valle avvampa –
È come se un volto di vulcano
Avesse liberato la sua gioia –
E quando a sera – finita la bella giornata –
Sorveglio il capo del mio padrone –
È più bello che le soffici piume
Del profondo cuscino – aver condiviso –
Al suo nemico – sono mortale nemica –
Niente si muove per la seconda volta –
Su cui io abbia posato un occhio giallo –
O un energico pollice –
Sebbene di lui – possa vivere più a lungo
Egli più a lungo deve – di me –
Perché io ho solo il potere di uccidere,
Senza – il potere di morire –
artwork by
My Life Had Stood was the opportunity to follow a path in a secret garden that leads to slow, courageous, perhaps cynical thoughts, where the awareness of having the power to kill, but not to die, is captured in a red sketch among the leaves. This intimate place revealed itself as a tribute to her herbarium in honor of a passion that unites us.