L’amour, L’amour on Summer Afternoons / L’Amour, L’Amour D’estati Filuvespiri

When I was a young girl in Sicily,
mother threatened me with gypsies
if I didn’t nap after our mid-day meal.
She’d say Gypsies roam WILD on summer afternoons,
steal disobedient children who won’t close an eye.
Mother didn’t know I was a gypsy’s child
who wouldn’t close an eye

waiting for Carmen to come down from the movies.
Carmen’s pale half moons shook
when she sang the Habanera – “L’amour, L’amour.”
Carmen’s three-tiered skirt twirled,
mixed with sweat and red and smoke –
“L’amour, L’amour”
would never, ever, know a mother’s law.

On summer afternoons long notes lived,
gypsy violins raised my hips to a slow staccato tempo
and finally my eyes, a picca a picca* windowed
for all the hairless boys, the bearded men
sprinkled at my feet –
one hand on their thirsty throats,
the other rising to reach a naked thigh.

Habanera (Spanish): aria
Sicilian Expression: bit by bit

Quann’eru o miu paisi, picciuttedda,
me matri mi minacciava cu li zingari
se nun m’addummiscevu dopu pranzu.
Mi dicia Zingari SARVAGGI vannu scaminannu d’estati filuvespiri,
arrubbannu figghi fimmini ca nun chiurunu occhiu.
Me matri nun sapia ca eru figghia di na zingara
e di solitu nun chiurevu occhiu

aspittannu a Carmen ca scinnia di lu schermu.
Carmen, ccu li menzi-luni pallidi ca trimavanu
quannu cantava la Habanera – “L’amour, L’amour.”
Carmen, cu la gonna a tri vola` ca vulava,
si miscava cu sururi e russu e fumu—
“L’amour, L’amour”
mai puteva, mai, ubbidiri la liggi di na matri.

D’estati filuvespiri noti musicali eranu vivi vivi,
zingari viulini mi isavanu li scianchi a ritmu staccatu e lentu
e finalmenti li me occhi, a picca a picca, si chiurevanu a finistredda
ppi tutti li picciutteddi senza ancora pilu ‘nta lu pettu,
ppi tutti l’omini cu la varva siminati vicinu li me peri—
cu na manu ‘nta la gola assitata,
metri l’avutra si stinnia versu na coscia nura.