Strona is a comune (municipality) in the Province of Biella in the Italian region Piedmont, located about 70 kilometres (43 mi) northeast of Turin and about 12 kilometres (7 mi) northeast of Biella. As of 31 December 2004, it had a population of 1,217 and an area of 3.8 square kilometres (1.5 sq mi).
Strona borders the following municipalities: Casapinta, Cossato, Crosa, Mezzana Mortigliengo, Trivero, Valle Mosso, Valle San Nicolao.
The name Strona should come from storn or strom, celtic roots for flowing waters or river.
The Strona (Italian pronunciation: [ˈstroːna]) is a mountain torrent in the Province of Verbano Cusio Ossola, northern Italy, a tributary of the Toce. It rises on Monte Capezzone at an elevation of 2,421 metres (7,943 ft) and runs through the Valle Strona (the communes of Valstrona, Massiola, Quarna Sopra, Loreglia, Germagno, Omegna, Casale Corte Cerro and Gravellona Toce) before entering the Toce. At Omegna it is joined by the Nigoglia, the outlet of Lago d’Orta.
Coordinates: 45°56′N 8°27′E / 45.933°N 8.450°E / 45.933; 8.450
Comin' in easy on the sea train.
Walkin' out under the fog again,
And the sky don't explain
If I'm up or across or down, town around just like then.
The neon screen will never know when.
Be quiet or dream,
And just not crowd the scenes
Of my mind's sound.
I'm goin' under and comin' on out
To see you again.
My mind's been wanderin', but I'm about
To meet you again.
The rhythm of hearts plays in my veins
Like some long-gone lonesome sea train.
I'm only sure that the weather would break if I did.
They'll come easy, then go glad.
Your child at the window says the rain don't look sad,
And you ask me who's mad
As you show me your lost and found.
Down, you're bound again.
With your fan, my fire turns to wind
Your glass fills mine with sand,
You shout, "I'm not your land!"
And I hear the ground.
I'm a weeping shadows, feeling like a willow
Bearing Martha's flower; as the sun comes, I come.
Far across the street, clear across the stream,
The sun shall come.
If you're in a tree and the forest falls, who hears you?
[musical interlude]
And the hills meet the wind, making dew.
We see us again.
As the sun behind clouds, breaking through,
We're gonna meet them again.
The rhythm of hearts plays through my veins
Like some long-gone lonesome sea train.
Rain in the meadow beats the river to the ocean.