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.
~