ITALY, also my ITALY( My Italian poem in English- Translation)

ITALY, also my ITALY.

I am a foreigner this moment, in this land of Italy,
I came from a poor and populated country
Which is the other side of the world.


I felt like in a dream land, perceiving everything so strange!
The language ,people, names, cities and the food.

Once again that big fear entered into my life.
Here moment like this happened often.
I used to ask myself like this,
"Am I loosing my consciousness and identity?.

I had to ask to others like a child
What to do and how to do the things.
Slowly my learning improved from a new awareness.

I had to born again to start an unfamiliar life,
Every foreigner talks lot about Italy, sharing news about Italy.
One day I wanted to know more about it myself.

So I started to think and ask myself in this way,
"Maybe Italy is also a motherland like my country.
But not a father land.!

Is there any country as a fatherland?
May be but I don't know.
But for me Italy is a motherland like mine!.

Italy is beautiful: the cities, landscape, people, and mountains..
I see here children are like living dolls.
With different colours of eyes and hair.

People keep many gentle words greet each other.
The streets are not much dirty and people are not look in a hurry.
The great mountains are snowy in all season
And the soil is not look thirsty.

Italy is like a Santa Claus to foreigners
With many gifts in its hands,
It offers nice scenery, fresh air, good food and euro!

Once again in life I entered into a school,
My evening Italian language class,
Where I sit and see faces of different races.

There each one of us keeps a face of young student.
There my A,B,C,D, become aa, bee, chee, dhee.!

I love to travel to north, south, east and west of Italy.
Because it looks like a big garden to me.
One day I stopped walking and relaxed in a place.

And I asked myself some strange questions
Such as: "Who made Italy?"
God? No, otherwise why are other countries are not like this.
The politicians? no, why can't all nations imitate it?

The religious people? not even them. 
This or that, I was thinking and thinking.
Finally it happened one day.

I have found something one of the history books of Italy.
My mind stuck on the evolution of a word
"Restauratrice"!( Female renovation worker)

Then I lived some days with this word and its story:
I tried to picture it in my mind this way.
During the war time most of the men went to the war,
Only the old people, women and children were
Remained in the cities and streets.

All houses, streets and villages were in silence.
It was like the earth has almost stopped moving.
Soon the devil started to knock the doors of the houses
In the form of hunger.

But the courageous mothers were not ready to
Surrender to that kind of devil.
They decided to go out in the fields and factories.

They put working clothes and boots on.
Some of them began to use the hammer,
And some others began to drive the tractors in the fields. 

Thus they created that incredible word for women
As first time in the dictionary,
"Restauratrice"!( Female renovation worker)

Those dark days during the day they were like men in outside.
But in the night were both mothers and fathers to their children. 

After a long frozen period of life, when the war ended,
Only a few women were fortunate to get their husbands back.
Rest of them did not make their family like before.

Those unfortunate mothers remained in the fields
And factories to work for their children forever!.

Day after day, year after year, their descendants
Still following those old brave and courageous mothers.
The boys and girls of today are creating this country: Italy!

I can see that old fire of those courage mothers
In the eyes of today's women!
It surprises me why there could exist such words "Son of a ..... "
When everybody is a son of those old courageous mothers!

Then I don't want to know 
How those mothers lives ended later.
Maybe some of them lived in solitude
Some might have fled to other lands!

Some had lived of drinking out of hard memories and frustration.
But I wish to think this, that their souls still
Remain up in the sky like the stars.
And continue to watching the lives of their grandchildren.
Night after night and day after day. 

I wonder if I could find out on geographical maps.
Is there exist any temples in their name
Just to remember and admire them for a moment

I Thanking them for that their land is still fertile and productive
I thanking them for that those factories were not closed by them
Even in the difficult and critical days of the war.

Here what I am tasting in the form of this or that food is their old sweat.
Now I am asking you my friends, the descendant of those mothers,
Let me drink with you the milk of courage and love of those mothers,
That will continue to flow in this land until the end of the world.
This land always belong to them, to you.
And now also to me.
Italy, also my Italy.
Thank you.