Little Italy Poem by Paolo Giuseppe Mazzarello

A woman in mourning goes to a funeral with a child in her arms:
This painting is called Italian Landscape, by Ben Shahn.
One day, if you will not be on the run among many people, Lesbia,
I shall look at you near my tomb
In that land where my love lasted as a log in the fireside.
Saint Peter's Square, where you see only one column though they are thousand;
One day the Bersaglieres made a hole in the wall to shrink the Pope;
The Swiss Guards did not take offence, either.
Shrunk Italy itself, which shot so close to Pietà and Moses of Michelangelo,
While the Virgin of the Rocks repaired to the Louvre. Country on the beach.
A government a month, taxes all the year. The Dante's remains rest in Ravenna.
'Voej ese Alpin - I want to become Alpino' said a kid,
Then he knew the Alpinos' killers.
In sunny Romagna, the child Nick wears a light violet bandana
On his blond hair, among the green vines.
One night in a dark old place, the Leopard asked the stars questions about his dying hour.
In Little Italy, the restaurants are empty.
I ask the stars when you will be back home.