Anna Magnani


“Between hope and my old 
distrust, I approach you”
—Pier Paolo Pasolini, The
Ashes of Gramsci 

Between the ancient walls—
there in the dark dirty alleys
I got by as a pretty prostitute

When I grew middle-aged and—
dumpy I quit being a trashy
old whore and quit the racket

I saved up my money for a—
fruit and vegetable stand there
in busy downtown Roma

I could afford a nice apartment—
and I felt guilty about leaving
my son Ettore back in the sticks

For him, I had big dreams of—
success and a good job, so I
even bought him a motorcycle

I got him out of the country—
and into the big city so that
he could making a living

But it was too late for Ettore—
he hated school and working even
though I got him a job as a waiter

He fell in love with a gang of young—
do-nothing, no-good teenage thugs
all they did was steal & play cards

Ettore sold all my classic records—
I used to be quite a famous singer
at weddings, funerals and cafes

Ettore was my pride and joy—
the son of a young handsome pimp
that got be started as a whore

But my past haunted me and—
when Ettore found out the truth
he died a tragic death in prison

down through the centuries—
it’s always been the same story
grief breeds in the backstreets

No comments: