Walking down a brick paved lane, looking into
restaurants and cafes along the way.
Beautifully set tables, caressing flowers set
in vases, candlelight shivering in the dark.
An atmosphere of Italian delight, seated in
my soul, reveling in aromas meeting my sense
of smell in mid air.
Cozy sidelines, winding aimlessly in my mind,
an entire vision of imagination set in verse.
Portrait of art, hanging on the wall, none
of this is real at all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem