In some parks in Daegu, Korea, there are devices that measure the quality of the air we breathe, and electronic clocks that mark the hours, minutes, and seconds with precision.

Our lifetime is also marked by the clock. It works uninterruptedly, but sooner or later it will stop, for we are limited beings! Therefore, what is the best way to live our transient life? The great Florentine patron, Lorenzo dei Medici (1449 – 1482) wrote this poem about life, from which I have extracted a few lines:

Trionfo di Bacco e Arianna

Quant’è bella giovinezza,
che si fugge tuttavia!
Chi vuol esser lieto, sia:
di doman non c’è certezza.
… Ciascun apra ben gli orecchi,
di doman nessun si paschi;
oggi siam, giovani e vecchi,
lieti ognun, femmine e maschi;
ogni tristo pensier caschi:
facciam festa tuttavia.…

Triumph of Bacchus and Ariadne

How beautiful is youth,

Yet fleeting!

Let people enjoy their lives;

Tomorrow is not certain.

Everybody should open his ears,

And not live in the future.

Today we are, young and old,

male and female, all happy;

Let every sad thought fall away,

And celebrate life…

Yes, Lorenzo dei Medici is right. Well-being lies in living life here and now!

Ettore Grillo, author of these books:

November 2: The Day of the Dead in Sicily (English version)

A Hidden Sicilian History (English version)

The Vibrations of Words (English version)

Travels of the Mind (English version)

– Una Storia Siciliana Nascosta (versione in lingua italiana)

– Viaggi della Mente (versione in lingua italiana)


It was getting late. The keeper of the cemetery came and kindly asked her to head for the exit. Angela nodded. She took a sheet of paper from her bag and handed it to the keeper. It contained the epitaph she had written:

Death is a melter.

He gathers souls here and there.

Souls of the rich, souls of the poor,

Souls of the noble, souls of the plebeian.

Then he put them into its crucible where

All souls become ONE.

“Tomorrow, would you mind giving this sheet of paper to the stonecutter, please? He has already been informed. He will carve this epitaph on the marble wall above the altar,” Angela said.

The keeper of the cemetery bowed his head and said, “It will be done, my fair lady.”

This is an excerpt from November 2: The Day of the Dead in Sicily

Ettore Grillo author of these books:

November 2 The Day of the Dead in Sicily
– A Hidden Sicilian History
– The Vibrations of Words
– Travels of the Mind



To go to Monte Pellegrino, I drove towards Mondello and took the panoramic road that leads to the top of the mountain. The road was full of sharp U-bends.
“I feel dizzy if I look down,” Giuseppina said.
At the end of the winding road we arrived at a square. From there, a flight of steps led to the Sanctuary of Santa Rosalia, also called the Santuzza, who is the patron saint of Palermo.
It is said that in 1624, when the plague was causing many deaths in Palermo, Rosalia appeared to a shooter and led him to the cave on Mount Pellegrino, where her bones could be found. Then she asked him to take her bones to Palermo to be carried in a procession along the streets. The hunter did what Santa Rosalia wished and, after her remains were carried in procession three times, the plague ended. From then on, Santa Rosalia has been the patron saint of Palermo.
The sanctuary was inside the cave where Santa Rosalia’s remains were found. Entering the cave, I was enchanted by the silent atmosphere. The German poet Wolfgang Goethe, who visited the place, described Monte Pellegrino as the most beautiful promontory in the world.
Not far from the entrance of the cave were some votive offerings from people who had been granted a blessing. Going forward, my attention was attracted by the drops that came from the top of the cave. The drops were canalized on thin silvery metal sheets to a basin, and were used to fill the holy water stoup at the entrance of the church. I don’t know why, but I had the sensation that the dripping water was teardrops, as if that holy cave were shedding tears for me.
At the end of the cave was a marble statue portraying the Immaculate Conception. I genuflected and, watching Mary’s statue, asked her to lead us in the best way according to her will. Unfortunately, Giuseppina and I couldn’t escape our fate!
Before long, a thunderbolt would fall on us.
At that moment, I recalled one of my mother’s poems that I had read when I had found Vincenzo’s diary.
We were sitting on our stone staircase.
What is life? I asked my siblings.
“Life is breathing,” answered Biagio. “Even trees
“Life is a tiny bird on a small branch,” said Vincenzo.
“Unexpectedly the sprig snaps,
and the little bird flies away.”
“As for me,” replied Carolina, “life is a dream,
sometimes beautiful and often nightmarish.”
“Life is destiny!” I ended off. “It is a beautiful drawing
on the sand,
and the drawer already knows when the tide will
erase it.”

This is an excerpt from A Hidden Sicilian History by Ettore Grillo
Ettore Grillo author of these books:
– A Hidden Sicilian History
– The Vibrations of Words
-Travels of the Mind



My beloved brother,

when you cross the river of eternal life

may the angels strew your way with flowers.

Your heart is pure and stainless

and your soul never will die.

You are now in a faraway land

where the moon always shines

and the sun never sets.

Before long we will hold hands again,

to walk together until the end of space and time!


The poem has been excerpted from A Hidden Sicilian History

Ettore Grillo, author of these books:
– A Hidden Sicilian History
– The Vibrations of Words
– Travels of the Mind