The sun went down over San Benedetto del Tronto

Horns from the fishing skiffs wailed out mournfully across the bay

Returning home from across the glittering Adriatic blue

To the women on the beach… anxiously waiting…

The water’s memories like golden rivulets

Nudging the sloping fine white sand

Across the swathes where Diocletian’s horses furiously galloped

So many warrior centuries ago along the bleeding Albula

Where the martyr died.

 ~

The palm trees sighed lazily in the late summer air

Redolence of Brodetto alla sambenedettese drifting through the narrow streets

And in through the window where a tiny voice cried out

That was heard from the Torrione

Across the rooftops

And over the sea

Through the night and the day

And every waiting heart…

 ~

Nel momento in cui sei nata.

~