Oh partigiano, portami via,
Oh bella, ciao! Bella, ciao! Bella, ciao, ciao, ciao!
Oh partigiano, portami via,
Ché mi sento di morir.

Oh partisan take me away,
Goodbye my beautiful! Goodbye my beautiful! Bye, bye, bye my beautiful!
Oh partisan take me away,
Because I feel like I'm dying.

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1943, 23rd of November

They took him with them. They deported him.

I don't know if they discovered that he's not a Christian, or if they didn't react wellt o that latest article of his. But this morning, while the village was still asleep, they took him. I was left with no proper goodbye. No kiss, not even a letter or a hug.

There's still hope left in my mind, but it's fading quickly. No person that was taken has ever returned. Now I'm alone, but I refuse to let this act fade into the forgotten part of history. They are going to pay for what they did, Elias, I swear. Matteo told me that there was a revolt planned for tomorrow.

I'm going to be there.

Ciao, ~Bella