"Vulissi turnari nicuzzu" (I would like to become a child again) recites a beautiful poem by the Saccense poet Vincenzo Licata. It is a hymn to childhood, retraced with tenderness but deep nostalgia by the poet. But it is also a reminder to appreciate the time we live, because time is the one thing that never comes back, leaving us alone with our memories.
It is precisely to celebrate the time when we were children, to remind us of the tastes, smells, and colors of our childhood, that we decided to call our oil Nicuzzu.
'Nicuzzu' is a vezzeggiative in the Sicilian dialect of nico that means-as it always does in our dialect-much more than a thousand words. It means "little," "baby," but it holds a deep sense of tenderness. We use it to describe anything that seems to us to be in need of care and protection, just as we do with our oil. Or again, something that we feel has not reached its full maturity. And this last definition makes us think of the olive blossom -- represented in our logo -- so small, fragile, candid, so nicuzzu.
Returning to poet Licata's poem, we like to share it here. It is a poem in Sicilian dialect in which the poet -- let us paraphrase a few lines to make sense of it -- feels his heart is sick and always stung by thorns, feels that he is out of breath and feels alone and lost. It is in experiencing this deep anguish that he would like to become a child again and experience once more those feelings that made him feel protected, safe and happy: to have caresses and kisses, to have his grandmother's affection, to look at the world with pure eyes and soul, to run and play free; he would like to become a child again so that he could sleep once more embraced by his mother. Then he interrupts the reminiscence and bitterly notes that no, the past does not return, it was a sweetest dream, other days will come happily but those will never return.
We hope you will love this poem as much as we do, to the point that we were inspired by these lines to name our oil.
MI SENTU LU CORI MALATU
E SEMPRI DI SPINI PUNCIUTU;
MI SENTU MANCARI LU CIATU
E, SULU, MI SENTU PIRDUTU.
VULISSI TURNARI NICUZZU,
AVIRI CARIZZI E VASATI,
JUCARI CU LU CAVADDUZZU
E COMU DDI TEMPI PASSATI!
AVIRI A ME’ NANNA VICINU
CHI CUNTA LI CUNTI DI FATI,
JUCARI NTA LU ME’ JARDINU
MANCIANNU CU L’ATRI SURDATI.
VIDIRI LU MUNNU E LI GENTI
CU L’OCCHI E CU L’ANIMU PURI
E DIRI PAROLI NNUCCENTI
CHI MANNANU ODURI DI CIURI.
E CURRIRI, CURRIRI, CURRIRI
DARRERI DUMILA FARFALLI
CAMPAGNI-CAMPAGNI, AFFIRRARILI
JUCARICCI E POI MBARSAMALLI.
JUCARI, SCIARRIARIMI, CURRIRI,
E LIBERU ESSIRI FORA,
AVIRI DI SUTTA NA TAVULA
PI FARI LA SCIDDICALORA.
SCIALARI A LA CAZZICATUMMULA
E CENTU CUMETI ABBIARI,
O PURU JUCARI A LA STRUMMULA,
CANTARI, JUCARI, SCIALARI.
ARRERI TURNARI NICUZZU
C’UN CORI AMURUSU E SINCERU.
ME’ MATRI CHI DICI “CIATUZZU,
CHI CAMPI FELICI IU SPERU!”
VULISSI ACCUSSI RITURNARI
DURMENNU A ME’ MATRI ABBRAZZATU,
PI SENTICCI ANCORA CANTARI:
“MI DORMI LU FIGGHIU ADORATU!”
MA NO, LU PASSATU NUN TORNA,
UN SONNU DUCISSIMU FU’:
VIRRANNU FILICI LI JORNA ,
MA CHIDDI NUN TORNANU CCHIU’!