At the frontages of old buildings,
under clouds loaded of nostalgia
near silent cathedrals
and bent bridges...
On the streets of Florence,
in the morning, with the color of lilac
I weave my hands
in your fingers, burning of sweetness.
And I feel, how my breath
jumps up,
high, somewhere in heaven
where - in the tower of Giotto
pigeons fly
brilliant
and white
as my thoughts.
Light pours over me like a shadow
with the excited whisper
of joyful bells,
sprinkled over me
as aflower of a spray,
Blooming at sunrise.
'pigeons fly brilliant and white as my thoughts. Light pours over me like a shadow with the excited whisper of joyful bells, sprinkled over me as aflower of a spray, Blooming at sunrise'.... beautiful lines all these...nice poem Maria...i liked...10
As you dream for happiness, let the dream soar to the sky for it to come true.
lovely poem Maria, welcome to poem hunter..................
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The moon throws a veil over - and I touch you with my hair. With the thrill of a virgin, taken the pitchers to the well, Compliment of your poem deserving an impression of Italia from your second poem.. indeed Italy is beautiful even if your italicize your words..... MI PIECHE FLORENCIA! 10+++