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My Dear Toscana

Where am I?

Does it matter?

What I know is,

That I dream of you,

My dearest Tuscany,

An impossible place to forget.

I am back in my hometown,

On a cool spring morning.

An elderly lady sits on a balcony,

While I walk down the street,

Crossing paths with smiling people,

Chatting nonstop.

All around me are vivid colors:

Flaming red terracotta,

Ponds of olive green water,

Sculpted tan rock,

And a sparkle of bright light,

Of mystery and intellect.

Behind the bell towers,

The rolling hills

Run after each other.

Streams of sweet wine,

I envision pouring down

Where the sun meets the countryside.

You greet the many tourists

That walk along your alleys,

Among kiosks and fountains,

Chasing the smell of good food

And the joyful melody

Of “Salute” and “Buon Appetito.”

Then the night descends,

The Arno river reflects

The trembling streetlights

And the smiling stars.

It’s time for the mandolin

To serenade the sleeping town.

The minstrel below the window,

Sings to his beloved.

He asks for a simple gift:

A kiss,

Just one kiss,

From her rosy lips.

I wake up

Back in the dark,

Far from you.

Next to me is Viktoria,

To remind me that

Life is about love,

Love for my beautiful lady,

For my family, the world,

And a town, my hometown,

Of reality and memory,

Creativity and virtuosity,

A place that

Always will be

Impossible to forget,

My dear Toscana.

Written by: Samuele Bagnai & Viktoria Rusnakova, authors of The Tuscan Who Sold His Fiat to the Pope & Enthusiastic All the Way, respectively.

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