High on a balcony
overhanging Amalfi
we live & love
the summer away.
Poems creep
into books
paintings invade
pages.
I serenading you
with the only other Italian I know
an old nursery rhyme
which I, not knowing
the tune
sing to either
Santa Lucia
or
O Sole Mio.
“Farfallina...bella Bianca.
(Beautiful white butterfly)
Vola! Vola...mai si stanca.
(Flying...flying...without rest)
Gira qua...Gira la!
(Turning here...turning there)
Poi si resta sul balcon.
(then resting on the balcony) .
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem