Were the Troubadours of Greek, Celtic and Iberian origins? Were the Etruscans distant ancestors as well? I like to think so while I look at the landscape surrounding the ancient volcanic lake, where the Etruscan goddess slept in the mud, protected by the pillars of the ancient temple. She has woken up this year. We stumble on tombstones hidden in the olive groves and in the dark forests where cyclamens flower, thousands of them, in springtime, little flames sparkling in the shadows. What secrets did survive? Maybe not all is lost, maybe their secrets reveal themselves in the love-songs (de Minneliederen) of the Troubadours and in their tales of Chivalry; the tales of Arthur, of Merlin and of Percival. A kiss reveals a burning love, like the flame that never died; its reflections are cast all around the lake where flowers touch the sky and where the nightingale’s song arises higher still. It’s a promise.