Isola Bella
In truth, you are not my type,
but I fell in love with you
at first sight.
Blousy and flowery,
aloft your pedestal
hewn by human hands.
‘Look at me' you cried,
perched upon a perfect throne,
amidst the sea-like lake:
a living Lady of Shallot;
temptress, mistress
of both poor man and king.
I admired you from afar,
but it took some time
and effort to reach you,
crossing waters;
passing other islands.
How you filled my senses:
your fragrance and beauty
won me, as you have won so many.
You exhausted me
as I climbed to view
your irresistible vistas.
Like the Lorelei,
this Borromean Princess
called one of lesser order:
tantalising me with exotic flowers.
Such noble lineage gives grace
to your lofty, aristocratic mount,
against a backdrop
of snow topped mountains,
and shoreline of rich facades.
I will never forget our day together.
I have had the pleasure of others
who have sought to win me over,
but you remain in my memory,
and I long to see you again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem