Bella Ciao

Tutte le genti che passeranno
O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao
Tutte le genti che passeranno
E mi diranno che bel fior

E questo è il fiore del partigiano 
O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao
E questo è il fiore del partigiano
Morto per la libertà

Bella Ciao¹

On April 25th in Italy we celebrate the liberation from Nazi-Fascism..

At the end of the war, my great-grandfather returned to his village in a truck full of rubbish and even his wife did not recognised him. They had shut him up in Auschwitz because he was a socialist: one day he didn’t greet a police officer and a few days later they came for him. He survived on potato peels, but got circulation problems and had both legs amputated above the knee.

At the end of the war, my other great-grandfather, who had gone to Russia with the Italian Alpine troops, managed (only God knows how) to get to France and decided, with the only two friends of his left alive, to return home by train. I don’t know why, but they missed each other at the station and came back separately. My grandfather did not like to talk about it, but that missed appointment seemed to symbolise all his suffering, as if he missed an appointment with himself, as if only with others he could make sense of the horror and only shared experiences could alleviate guilt.

The two of them were relate by family but, above all, friends. From both sides of the barricade, each one saw the other and recognised a brother. Even if few of those who witnessed it are still alive now, this image remains in the family: the big Alpine trooper who carried the survivor of the concentration camps in his arms like a child. The partisan of the song Bella Ciao died because both of them could live. 

And us? Are we worthy of the gift from that partisan who only ask a flower in return? Wouldn’t he, who knew that he could die any moment, say that it’s better to live than survive? Return to normal? Normality? A normality in which we are normally unreflective, normally numb and on average unhappy? Is this the reason why he died? Because we, obsessed with progress but terrified of change, could be lulled into the hallucination of having infinite time ahead? Don’t we owe him to be more mindful citizens, more compassionate humans and animals aware of our own mortality?

Here
forever live
the eyes that were closed to the light
why everyone
had them opened
forever
to the light²

Giuseppe Ungaretti, For the dead of the Resistance

Happy Liberation day to you all! And remember to keep your eyes wide open!

1. And all those who shall pass,
   oh bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao
   and all those who shall pass
   will tell me “what a beautiful flower.”
   
   This is the flower of the partisan,
   oh bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao
   this is the flower of the partisan
   who died for freedom
   See the whole translation here. [↩]
2. Qui
   vivono per sempre
   gli occhi che furono chiusi alla luce
   perché tutti
   li avessero aperti
   per sempre
   alla luce [↩]