A haunting song, Casanova, from my favourite Italian contemporary singer, Angelo Branduardi. Here are the words (my translation).
Casanova walked back to Venice like a seagull returning to its nest at night. Nostalgia accompanied him home through the perfumed shadows of women forgotten forever. Now night is coming. Now winter is coming. Casanova.
Alone and fearful, along that dusty street, he went towards the sea. Masked figures, distant seasons, illuminated gardens, reflections in the canal…. Now night is coming. Now winter is coming. Casanova.
A hundred nights, a hundred women in one life. Wonderful virgins and whores. Youth now almost an invented fairy tale…. Splendour, misery, glory and melancholy…. Now night is coming. Now winter is coming. Casanova.
As in so many of Branduardi’s songs he manages to make regret and loss seem an eternal condition.
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