Anthology rhymes - 私詩韻集 -
L'ATTIMO ID CALMA
The slope of Fiesole -- I descended, feeling the day slowly coming to an end.
The western sun coming through the olive branches told me it was time to embrace the hustle and bustle.
I turned my feet toward the church to escape.
The reflection of the façade, which foreshadows silence, deepens the "blackness" beyond the doors.
The cold air from the stone-paved floor.
Over the altar, the light of dusk dripped from the stained glass.
A moment of lull-serenity.
I wondered how long it had been, the shadows had invited the darkness in.