Che parlassi tedesco, italian, sloven o chissà che altra lingua, la gente morta de qua durante la prima guera combatteva per el suolo natio.
A Banne esisteva la magifica villa del Baron Burgstaller, ma nei anni 30 i la ga distrutta per costruir la caserma: se ga salvado solo la cesetta che jera all'interno della villa.
Alla Messa per i morti de Banne della prima e seconda guerra vegno accolto da due done in vestito tradizionale che me ofri pan e sal: un portafortuna.
La Messa xe bilingue, preghemo in italian e sloven, contemporaneamente: Dio capissi lo stesso.
Fora piovi, un coro magnifico canta al Signor e per i caduti.
Alcuni ragazzi vesti la divisa austro-ungarica e ghe xe bandiere con l'aquila bicipite.
La storia non perdona questi muli, morti in nome de chi ga perso. Non i ga grandi crosi sui cimiteri e nissun sa i loro nomi. Qualchidun però prega ancora per lori.
Una medaglia vien dada ai fioi e le fie dei caduti: i xe fieri de riceverle.
Continua a piover e delicate parole vien lette in italian, sloven e tedesco.
La gente torna a casa, la piova cessa.
Una lapide nel giardin della cesa tegnerà in vita i loro nomi.
Riposino in pace
November, 6th 2005
Bani (or Banne) is a small town not so far from Triest. Most of the people speaks Slovenian even if we are on the Italian side of the border. During the XX century many people died under different flags for this territory. Austrian, Italian, Yugoslavian …
No matter the language they spoke: they were basically fighting for their motherland.
In Bani there was the magnificent house of the Baron Burgstaller but in the 1930 someone decided to destroy it and built some military barracks. Only the small private church of the house survived to the destruction.
In this church there is a Mass for the name of some young guys who died in world war I and II. We are mixed up. At the entrance two kind women give me bread and salt. It is a lucky chance.
The Mass is bilingual. We pray the same prayer contemporarily with different words. God understands anyway. Outside is raining. A magnificent choir sings for the Lord and the dead.
There are some guys with the k.u.k. military uniform and the double eagle flag.
History books do not forgive this soldiers, because they died in the name of the looser. They haven’t got big shining crosses in their cemetery. Nobody knows their name. Anyway there is still someone who pray for them.
A medal is the award for the sons and daughter of the dead. They’re proud of it.
It keeps raining. Delicate words keep flowing in Italian, Slovenian and German languages.
Now people is back home, the rain is over.
A rock near the church keeps their names alive.
Rest in peace.
