I started in Foligno, and from there it was a continuous escalation
of hanging, drawing, quartering and beheading.
Always donating a penny first towards a soul-redeeming mass for the condemned.
I made it my art. I saw them all,
murderers, rapists, rebels,
and never questioned why and how,
I was a tool, not a judge;
responsible only for human-death, never of its cause.
Then, three glasses from the Frascatano inn keeper would lift my spirits.
There in Via della Lungara I was feared, hated, flattered and courted.
And yet today, I can tell you that from all this, my name remains notorious;
in my own field I was a futurist-artist;
today that men skin each other in the name of gods, old and new, I can boast being a giant of the axe, still around in many a gazette.
Today, watching over briefly from the after-life,
I recall those stories that I was attached to, because even they were vanquished
and I lived despite that cloudy darkness...
'Oste portace un antro litro e se ce metti l’acqua nte pagamo,
se poi ce rode er culo te sgozzamo.'
('Landlord, bring us another litre. And if you dare water it down, don't ask to be paid, because if we're bloody minded you'd better watch your throat').
Mastro Titta, His Last Execution was in Frascati.
a group of people, that have lived and experienced the wonderful atmosphere of Frascati for many years, and now wish to share it with you.