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  Chiusi - Bella e un po'...  
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Il corso precipita a valle, come un fiume grigio ansioso di gettarsi nel mare, sbatte e rimbalza su un frammento di paesaggio intatto, un’immagine ferma e bellissima: lunghe quinte di colline a perdita d’occhio, le macchie scure dei boschi, quelle verde tenero delle viti e color ocra del grano, un sottile velo azzurro pallido chiude l’orizzonte.
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The stream plunges into the valley, like a grey river anxious to empty into the sea, it beats and skips through a fragment of untouched landscape, a still and beautiful image: a backdrop of endless hills as far as the eye can see, the dark patches of forest, the tender green of the grapevines and ochre of the wheat, a thin pale blue veil covers the horizon.
  Abbadia San Salvatore -...  
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L’abete iniziò a risplendere, irradiava raggi candidi, Ratchis, principe dei Longobardi, si avvicinò. In cima all’abete il re vide stagliarsi la figura del Salvatore e proprio in quel punto costruì con le pietre scure della montagna una chiesa destinata a vincere i secoli.
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At the foot of a mountain, there once was a silver fir. The tree remained in the shadows, waiting for a king. One day, 1300 years ago, the king arrived. The fir began to shine, radiating snow-white rays, and Ratchis, the Lombard prince, approached. At the top of the spruce, the king saw the silhouetted figure of the Saviour and on that spot, he used the dark stones to build a mountain church destined to survive the centuries. Thus the Abbazia di San Salvatore was born from this splendid Greek cross crypt, which in the shadow and secret of its 36 columns has cherished, for over 1,000 years, the Amiatina Bible - the oldest and most authoritative manuscript, translated into Latin by St. Jerome. Around the church, Abbadia flourished, whose narrow dark stone alleys are still illuminated once a year by the splendour of the Fiaccole, large pyres of wood that burn on Christmas Eve, forever alluding to the splendour of that ancient tree and the forgotten wonder of a king...