Bella Ciao by Patrizia Longhitano

Rounding out the first week of our YouTube takeover is this wonderful piece by Patrizia. It has something of the melancholy of a goodbye so it seemed fitting that this be the last video of her run. This is what Patrizia has to say:

Thank you to Richard and Marika for helping me with the filming of this video and Alessio for lending me his equipment and his precious time!

Here is the poem text:

Una mattina mi son' svegliato
O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao
Una mattina mi son' svegliato
E ho trovato l'invasor
In the Venetian waters,
on a calm evening, a ferry
was carrying us back to our hotel.

The waves were gently squashing against the boat
giving the rhythm to a song who was still
vibrating in the Alps and in the Padanian fields.

Someone tapped Delfina’s shoulder
and asked timidly if she could tell them
her story as ‘partigiana’.
O partigiano portami via
O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao
O partigiano portami via
Ché mi sento di morir

She told them about a sixteen year-old girl in 1943
wearing long dark hair in plaits, smiling at the camera
just like my mother used to braid them for me.

At her age I would dream to marry Mark Owen
while having a torrid affair with Luke Perry,
completely ignoring the existence of heroes.

In my bedroom, I would sing English songs
hoping my Italian teacher would stop giving us books
about mafia and highwaymen hidden in the mountains.
E se io muoio da partigiano
O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao
E se io muoio da partigiano
Tu mi devi seppellir
Maybe she would run barefoot in the vineyards
with her friends trying to not get stung by nettles
like I used to do, in those hot Summers.

Before getting caught by the Germans,
together with her aunt, she would help
with food and clothes, the hidden English soldiers.

Before being sent to Ravensbruck,
maybe she would pick up wild flowers
like I used to do, in those Veneto fields.





E seppellire lassù in montagna
O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao
E seppellire lassù in montagna
Sotto l'ombra di un bel fior
I need to say thank you to Delfina,
I must say thank you to Giuliana, Anna, Ester,
Luigina, Adriana, Marcella and Itala, to all of them,

for letting Pierina and Gioacchino to fall in love in Bienne,
for giving them the chance to go to Manaus and meet me,
for endorsing my life in San Fior di Sotto,

for giving me the freedom to hate that village,
for letting me leave and love another city,
another country and other women and men.



Tutte le genti che passeranno
O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao
Tutte le genti che passeranno
Mi diranno: che bel fior
Thank you to them, who let me taste
the frozen yoghurt in Soho’s July,
who let me get drunk on Tequila
with Christina in her Dulwich flat,

who let me watch
Boudica at the Globe,
who let me hear Liza with a Z
in Hampton on a thundery night.
E quest' è il fiore del partigiano
O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao
E quest'è il fiore del partigiano
Morto per la libertà

Thank you for making me yearn
for Bruno’s homemade grappa,
for my father’s chestnuts roasted
in his fireplace in long winter nights,

and all the partigiane’s stories
I will never hear
but are still floating
in the Piave river.