Sidling through throngs of the flea market behind the 17th-century Janiculum walls in search of mundane socks, mesh of all languages, of the salvaged objects of distances barely imaginable, obliging imagining however, hearkening back to ingenuities of the moment before conspicuous consumption well characterized by Heather Rogers' Gone Tomorrow, and soundtrack of home for this native rummager: idiom of street sales
MANICOMIO 3 EURO / MADHOUSE 3 EUROS
IO MI RIFIUTO: PORTA PORTESE: ROBBA ORIGINALE / I REFUSE [I RENDER MYSELF REFUSE]: PORTESE PORTAL: ORIGINAL STUFFFF
accompanied by ninnanannalike (lullabyelike) calls in all possible accents, pulse of the day's sales piercing, ecstatic in bare solicitation, satisfaction, memory of intermittent dependence on this, unflagging as the fervor tides of these weeks ablaze.
The death of the street also equals the death of street song—gregarious, nonselfconscious lyric.
Reconjures desire to track down the stray wistful documentaries of the last century.
And thanks to a commenter, the lyrics, which arrive at my understanding filtered by fifty percent in this dialect of Caltanissetta, dancing in this intermittence around forgetting, or literally, as I like to translate, "disrecording."
(Of one's life itself, & family, fatherland, friends, the saints. Of everything but you).
Mi scuordu, mi scurdà, scurdatu sugnu,
mi scuordu di la stessa vita mia.
Mi scurdavu lu bbeni di ma mamma,
era cchiù dduci, cchiù mègliu di tia.
Mi scurdavu lu bbeni di ma patri,
passa lu mari tri bboti pi mmia.
Mi scurdavu l'amici poi a me frati,
di li santi mi scuordu e no di tia.
Here, a translation in Italian:
Mi scordo, mi scordai, mi sono scordato / mi sono scordato della mia stessa vita / Mi sono scordato del bene di mia mamma / Era più dolce e migliore di te / Mi sono scordato del bene di mio padre / attraversò il mare tre volte per me / Mi sono scordato degli amici dei parenti e dei miei fratelli / Mi scordo dei Santi ma non di te.
& in English:
I forget, I forgot, I've forgotten, I forget my very life. Forgotten the good of my mother, she was gentler, better than you. Forgotten the good of my father, he crossed the sea three times for me. Forgotten were my friends kin and brethren; I forget the saints but not you.
But the lines should not be broken thus; listening you will hear them otherwise. The act of forgetting as an act of language broken otherwise.
"Scacciapensieri"="Jawharp," or "Jew's harp," "Ozark harp"—literally "thoughtdispeller."