***

On the art nouveau steps

of a theater,

the unjewelled silhoette

witnessed by maritime

figures

of pines and me

at Villa Torlonia,

with no airplanes in the air,

moved without walking,

danced without music,

not alone

but we were.

The middle of the sea

is not always the salt

and not always the water.

The sun is not the same

every morning.

There is the sun

when there is no sun

when I see you sitting

on the art nouveau

steps of a theater

at Villa Torlonia –

more coffee, campari, more grappa…

You are the most comfortable

to my eye,

like to Matisee the red fish ,

or Lisa Gherardini to Leonardo.

As beautiful as a Proust’s page,

even more beauty

in what is left unsaid,

like when the violins skip

in the late quartet

of Beethoven.

It almost had begun to snow,

to snow in Rome,

in panic was the grass,

calm was your noble

unjewelled silhoette

admired by maritime

figures

of pines and me

at Villa Torlonia.