We are happy to share what we received from the Federation of Associations of Istrian, Rijeka and Dalmatian Exiles.
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I would like to take this opportunity to express my deepest sympathy and respect for your dedicated work in preserving historical memory.
The story of exile, the drama of separation, and the subsequent reconstruction of an identity and a future in new lands—particularly the indissoluble bond with the reality of Trieste—are themes that deeply resonate with me.
I recently composed a text, this poem is entitled “Roots of stone and wind”, it has become a song that tries to encapsulate the gaze of the children of that time: the weight of those suitcases that were too big, the harshness of the bora and the cold, but also the strength of hope, the love and wisdom of the elderly that allowed those kids to become the “young lovers” and citizens of tomorrow.
I created a demo to bring this idea to life, and considering your strong connection to the area and your sensitivity, I would be truly happy and honored if you could listen to it.
My only wish is to contribute, in my own small way, to ensuring that "distant stories will not be lost."
Monica Noto
TEXT:
Roots of Stone and Wind
by Monica Noto
The time of work and salt
we were wearing shorts
and skinned knees
and suitcases that are too big
for our outstretched arms.
We shook hands
among the crowded rooms,
a memory of Trieste,
a stolen childhood,
an unpretentious refuge.
The war was a rumble
remained beyond the sea,
poverty is cold
that entered the bones.
But you and I watched the ships go by,
while the bora blew
on our moving life.
The old men stood on the steps
with shining eyes and a voice of velvet and stone.
We were running around,
we were just kids,
but their wisdom protected us, sweet, secret.
We have grown up
and those days seem far away,
now we are safe in this world.
Those words were our piece of bread,
the deep roots on which we grew.
And we became so big,
with tales of times gone by and the sea in front,
looking for a future in the alleys around here.
No longer just refugees, but young lovers.
The sewn hope
on our poor clothes,
the promise that the world would not break us,
because love protects more than a thousand shelters
and tomorrow rests on what has been.
You and I, children yesterday, old people tomorrow,
we pass the baton, we shake other hands.
The distant tales will not be lost,
as long as Trieste sings for those who have arrived and for those who have grown up.
The CDM deals with culture and history in the broadest sense, from tourism to cuisine, from historical documentation to teaching, from literature to art, but also with current affairs through the constant and precise information entrusted to its press office.
In the hope that a new European dimension can bring closer what human events have arbitrarily distanced.
Language
English
