Nanà is a common Italian nickname, often a diminutive of Giovanna or Anna. While it might seem simple, in this song, it takes on a much deeper, almost personified meaning.
Sal Da Vinci uses "Nanà" to refer to Naples itself, transforming the city into a beloved, complex character. He addresses Naples directly as "Nanà," acknowledging its beauty, struggles, and enduring spirit, making the nickname a powerful symbol of affection and identity for the city.
Nana is Naples itself, written as a woman the singer cannot stop loving. He calls himself a prisoner of her eternal enchantment, caught among the alleys he grew up loving, and he tells her plainly what a wonder she is.
The song does not stay in that affection for long. It looks straight at what hurts: the respect that isn't there, the same old problems, gentlemen born gentlemen while the dregs are left dirty and without dignity. The sharpest line is about a brother who changes his face, someone close who turns away.
Naples appears here as saint and sin at once. She is San Gennaro and heresy, blood and drug dealing and cruelty, but she is also laundry strung across a street and pure imagination. The singer trusts her to defend herself, and warns anyone who will not respect her.
By the end he is asking her to drop the mask. Pulcinella is told to come away and leave that company behind, so the city can go back to being itself, with its great feelings and its immense open heart. The promise he keeps returning to is that the old and the young are not alone, and that Naples belongs to everyone who is still a romantic.