Oceans of time ..

In the middle of the street, I can watch it perfectly, but just being opposite: as simple structure manufacturing certainly not expect it to be some kind of church, much less one that I came for so far. Not much has changed the alley.
I try to delve but a small group of tourists taking pictures and watching the art hanging on the walls. From outside the box I can see a certain Raffaello Sorbi on the side, but I prefer to wait a bit. No more will come see tourists, so it could wait out these and to have some time alone in there.
After a few minutes begin to emerge. I'm smoking a cigarette and I've taken a look, and as he watched, ate at the small restaurant next to the church, Da Vinattier, the Schiacciata, a kind of flat bread topped with herbs, and in this case with mortadella. The basic recipe apparently comes from the ancient Etruscans and Greeks and is now considered the place delightful. Have kinship with pizza, but what I've always loved are the "buchi" in it. When and the last tourist leaves the Chiesa I also finished my appetizer.
Two rows with a few benches and niche beside one of the reasons to come from Mexico City to this, my land, my original world.

"SOTTO QUESTO ALTARE

FOLCO PORTINARI

CONSTRUI LA TOMBA

DI FAMIGLIA 

L´8 GIUGNO 1291

VI EU SEPOLTA

BEATRICE PORTINARI"

And down this legend:

"PIETRA TOMBALE

DI

BEATRICE PORTINARI"

 "Under this altar built Folco Portinari family tomb.'s June 8, 1291 was buried Beatrice Portinari," "Tombstone of Beatrice Portinari".

I am imbued with many feelings. I have traveled an ocean of time and wonders; many lives touched me get ahead as I could, just to get to this moment that fate had in store me because God wills it so. and I, your humble servant, I use this golden opportunity to get to you here to the place of your eternal rest. I leave the rose I planted and cares for a while so it was ready: for it to arrive to its final location. And while you cry inconsolably, I have found no way to ever forget, nor will I until the time when my punishment is over and I can meet at last with you, I get my little red cap, who asked to look after my return, for you to see me again as I knew, my beloved. My muse. This modern straw hat just seemed clunky and horrible, as modern times you did not have the fortune to see.
I bow and salute you imagining standing cross, with the red dress that has been impregnated in my mind. This city I reject me, his big star, I will never but at least you have taken good care of. They better or divine punishment from their roots have destroyed this place. At least I would expect and well could fulfill my task.
Enough of strange musings, my love. I now come when you want. I'll read all the poems I've written about these centuries when the pilgrimage that He, the Most High, asked me to give a reason and consistency of the message that your love awake in me unleashed upon this world, you need more than ever, my message. Soon I will be with you. As you talk about so many things. All that this world has discovered, everything I've learned. When you arrive at your presence, sweet angel blessed, I'll be a little wiser ...