Alps from on high
One can view as
Your flight swoops on Turin
Clear views, pure colours
A mixed city, old and new
Jostle side by side
The long straight roads new
And old buildings, battle for space
Discount supermarkets
Traditional boutiques, pastry, ham, ice cream, leather working shops
Down alleys one can glimpse
Ttraditional squares, sheets hung
To dry, people gossip on
The balcony, in the park, in the shops
Churches are not drab, puritan affairs here
But gilded jewellery boxes, incense in the air
Uplifting solo singing lifts the eye past art of the ages
In praise of god
Large Tower near one church reminds us
Of Saracan raiding and inter-state warfare of Italy.
Bars where you stand, with pastries for sale
Very Italy
Alps in the distance
An ever present monument to nature
Flashing a leg of attraction
At the open eye of those new to a place
Whose eyes feast upon each new experience
The awkwardness of a new language but
Confident in not being the first tourist
Friendly smils and nods, from
Taxier, hotelier, waiter and all
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem