Vespa Tunes X: I Giardini di Marzo, Lucio Battisti,
The first time I heard this song it was a cover played by the house band at a place called The Place on via Alberico II by the Castel Sant’Angelo. It was perhaps 2002, the year after I’d met Massimo, and we had a table at the bar with a group of friends. The place was full and literally everyone sang along except me because, unbeknownst to me at the time, all Italians of all ages are born knowing the words to Lucio Battisti’s songs.
I clearly needed to rectify my cultural lacuna and so I went to the Discoteca Laziale (which is incidentally still going strong despite Spotify, if you like buying proper records go!) and bought Battisti’s greatest hits. I studied the lyrics until I was word perfect and next time the occasion presented itself joined in with everyone else, because singing along with a crowd is a joyous feeling. And so every year in spring it comes to mind and I sing it on my Vespa in these changeable March days—the last week has gone from blazing sunshine to grey gloom—as the blossom appears.
This translation of the lyrics is mine, apologies for eccentricities.
Il carretto passava e quell'uomo gridava “gelati”
Al ventuno del mese i nostri soldi erano già finiti
Io pensavo a mia madre e rivedevo i suoi vestiti
Il piu' bello era nero coi fiori non ancora appassiti
The wagon came by and the man shouted “ice creams”
By the 21st of the month our money was already finished
I thought of my mother and saw again her dresses
The prettiest was black with still vibrant flowers
All'uscita di scuola i ragazzi vendevano i libri
Io restavo a guardarli cercando il coraggio per imitarli
Poi, sconfitto, tornavo a giocar con la mente i suoi tarli
E alla sera al telefono tu mi chiedevi “perché non parli?”
As we left school the kids sold books
I stayed behind watching them and looking for the courage to imitate them
Then, defeated, I went back to play with my mind and its woodworm1
And in the evening on the phone you asked me “why aren’t you talking?”
Che anno è, che giorno è?
Questo è il tempo di vivere con te
Le mie mani come vedi non tremano più
E ho nell'anima
In fondo all'anima cieli immensi
E immenso amore
E poi ancora, ancora amore, amor per te
Fiumi azzurri e colline e praterie
Dove corrono dolcissime le mie malinconie
L'universo trova spazio dentro me
Ma il coraggio di vivere quello ancora non c'è
What year is it, what day is it?
This is the time of living with you
My hands as you can see don’t tremble any more
And I have in my soul
In the depths of my soul vast skies
And immense love
And then still, still love, love for you
Blue rivers and hills and meadows
Where my melancholy runs sweetly
The universe finds space inside me
But the courage to live still isn’t there
I giardini di marzo si vestono di nuovi colori
E le giovani donne in quei mesi vivono nuovi amori
Camminavi al mio fianco e ad un tratto dicesti "Tu muori"
"Se mi aiuti, son certa che io ne verrò fuori"
Ma non una parola chiarì i miei pensieri
Continuai a camminare lasciandoti attrice di ieri
The gardens of March are clothed in new colours
And young women in those months live new loves
You walked by my side and suddenly said “You’re dying”
“If you help me I’m sure I’ll come out of it”
But a word didn’t clarify my thoughts
I continued to walk leaving you an actress of yesterday2
Che anno è, che giorno è?
Questo è il tempo di vivere con te
Le mie mani come vedi non tremano più
E ho nell'anima
In fondo all'anima cieli immensi
E immenso amore
E poi ancora, ancora amore, amor per te
Fiumi azzurri e colline e praterie
Dove corrono dolcissime le mie malinconie
L'universo trova spazio dentro me
Ma il coraggio di vivere quello ancora non c'è
What year is it, what day is it?
This is the time of living with you
My hands as you can see don’t tremble any more
And I have in my soul
In the depths of my soul vast skies
And immense love
And then still, still love, love for you
Blue rivers and hills and meadows
Where my melancholy runs sweetly
The universe finds space inside me
But the courage to live still isn’t there
This doesn’t make any more sense in Italian than it does in English.
Nope, me neither.