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1.
2.
THE SPIRITS 11:10
3.
THE WALL 12:33
4.
THE WAR 07:37
5.
THE SILENCE 11:09
6.
THE VILLAGE 14:07
7.

about

DEDICATED TO THE MAGNIFICENT SPIRIT OF EDGAR ALLAN POE

-SOUNDS, EFFECTS, MIXING AND MASTERING BY MUTILATED BROTHERHOOD

-ALL TEXTS AND VOICES BY ANTONELLA EYE PORCELLUZZI


Lyrics:
1. Le nuage tomba il empêcha la vue. C’était le jour, dans le nuage l’air était opaque violette et mouillée. Les esprit planaient. Ma voiture s’arrêta pour les laisser passer. Ils marchaient devant moi en silence, prisonniers. Je devais demander des explications à ma voisine, aux gens du village.

La voisine de 90 ans était fraiche comme une rose, ronde, cheveux blancs lisses brillants réunis en chignon, elle tapait à ma porte sans prévenir et marchait dans la maison en rêve en voyant le passé. Elle me racontait ma maison au temps qu’elle était jeune. Elle me parlait des gens qui y habitaient. Un paysan costaud et plein de vie, et sa femme frêle.

2.

Afraid of nature

The house in the countryside

The silence
The corps behind the wall
The orange salade
The shape
The cloud down the hill
LE VILLAGE

3. L’homme avait été son amant. Sa femme mourut mystérieusement. Quand la vieille voisine arriva à un mur en pierre en bas elle dit: il l’a murée ici, derrière ce mur.

4. Ma voisine m’invita manger chez elle. Sa maison était petite, dehors une court et un poulailler. Elle prépara de la viande et une salade d’oranges, salée et poivrée. D’un coup elle me demanda de lui parler de la guerre, la guerre mondiale, la première. Moi je la regardais. Son sourire était devenu malin, méchant, menaçant. Elle me dit: Allez, tu t’en rappelles, non? Tu y étais.

5. Le silence de la nuit est tellement profond, tellement vaste, qu’il a un écho j’ai peur. La maison s’imprégnait de silence le silence faisait partie de l’obscurité. Totale.

6. Les gens du village ne vieillissaient pas. Le nuage violet revenait souvent encercler la colline juste en bas de ma maison, de mes fenêtres je pouvais regarder sa forme. Dans ces moments le village n’appartenait plus au monde, il était envahi de mystère et devenait dangereux.

7. Dans cette maison je commis aussi un délit. J’ai brulé mes écritures du passé dans la grande cheminée, un jour de Pâques, quand dehors les pêchers florissaient.



THE VILLAGE


1. The cloud fell, it prevented the sight. It was day, in the cloud the air was opaque violet and wet. The spirits hovered. My car stopped to let them pass. They walked before me in silence, prisoners. I had to ask my neighbour, the people of the village, for explanations.

2. The 90-year-old neighbor was as fresh as a rose, round, white hair, smooth and shiny, gathered in a bun, banging on my door without warning and walking into the house in a dream seeing the past. She told me about my home when she was young. She told me about the people who lived there. A strong and lively peasant, and his frail wife.

3. The man had been her lover. His wife died mysteriously. When the old neighbor arrived at a stone wall below she said: he walled her here, behind this wall.

REMEMBER THE ROSES REMEMBER MY VOICE THE ROSES VANISHED I WEAR MY DRESS YOUR FAVORITE DRESS WITH FLOWERS MY VOICE IS SCREAMING BEHIND THE WALL YOU CANNOT SLEEP AT NIGHT YOU CAN’T AVOID MY SCREAM IN THE DARK YOU CRY INSIDE YOU CRY INSIDE YOURSELF GOSTH HUSBAND

4. My neighbour invited me to eat at her house. Her house was small, outside a court and a henhouse. She prepared meat and a salad of oranges, salty and peppery. Suddenly she asked me to tell her about the war, the world war, the first one. I looked at her. Her smile had become clever, mean, threatening. She said to me: Come on, don’t you remember? You were there.

5. The silence of the night is so deep, so vast, that it has an echo, I’m afraid. The house was imbued with silence the silence was part of the darkness. Total.

6. The people of the village did not age. The purple cloud often came around the hill just below my house, from my windows I could look at its shape. In those moments the village no longer belonged to the world, it was filled with mystery and became dangerous.

7. In this house I also commit a crime. I burned all my writings of the past in the great chimney one Easter day, when outside the peach-trees flourished.

credits

released May 28, 2021

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Antonella Eye Porcelluzzi Marseille, France

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