Tutte le genti che passeranno,
Oh bella, ciao! Bella, ciao! Bella, ciao, ciao, ciao!
Tutte le genti che passeranno,
Mi diranno «Che bel fior!»

And all the people passing by                                                                                                                               Goodbye my beautiful! Goodbye my beautiful! Bye, bye, bye my beautiful!
And all the people passing by,
Will tell me: «What a beautiful flower!»

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2003, 24th of May

Dear diary,

it's been quite some time since I wrote to you. The flowers from Matteo, Domenicus and my beloved Elias are blooming this year again. Not many know what they stand for. Many tourists walk by them, without realising, who and what they symbolise.

It has been so long since I visited Saluzzo. For many decades I travelled from one place to another, as if my pain was going to disappear from travel. As if I could forget my fight for revenge, but that's not how it works. I still carry the scars, on my body and in my soul.

Now I'm old, with children and grandchildren, who don't need to worry about their future or need to know what their grandmother did. And it should stay this way.

Soon enough, I'll get a flower too, growing by the roots of the mountains. I say goodbye.

Ciao, ~Bella

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