calling me through the voice
of her people,of her music
and of her history.
She pleads for my return
there where I was born
and spent the happiest days
of my childhood.
This is the land of my people,
of my mother and my father,
of my grandparents and great-grandparents.
This is our land.
This is her voice that resounds like an echo
penetrating the hidden paths
of my fragile existence.
I would like to stretch myself
carry my body beyond the shores
of her heart and of her womb
and find myself a child again
along the meadows of my youth.
Sicily: land of joy and of tears ,
of sorrow and of songs,
we live and we die faraway
or nearby.
Finding me again among people I knew
experiences I lived
and seeing myself a child,
reliving the days bygone
the dreams not fulfilled.
This is my land.