Driving through Italy at ten years of age with my parents,
We stop near a fountain in a little village and
My father asks a handsome, dark haired young Italian man
With sparkling white teeth,
"Is the fountain water potable? "
The Italian, smiles, answers,
"Me no likka da water,
Me likka da wine."
How can one not love Italy?
You'd love Spain too There they have individual earthenware pitchers that say Drink wine, not water, Water breeds worms Convincing choice Your poem is charming, just like the Poet is too. With a good glass of red vino, we heartily toast, the two.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You can't help loving Italy I found on my tour of their country. I particularly enjoyed the sounds of their language.