Interamnia

The quietest of towns,

Cradle of my childhood dreams,

How old and tired you've grown.

Linden trees and muddy alleys,

Music, tears and laughter,

That's what you're made of.

What we all had is still within you,

Forever set in stone

On those cathedral steps

It's in the smile of a child,

In a stolen kiss after class,

In the hope that Life would never change.

A small world for sure,

But it was ours.

Nothing else mattered.

Innocence is bliss indeed,

And Happiness a double-edged sword.

My memory is the branch of a linden tree,

burdened by the first soft white snow.