(This poem is about the Torre di Mare in Praiano, Italy, which is a thousand-year-old round tower on a rock jutting out into the sea. It has extraordinary presence, as does Paolo's ceramic work)
See the Enchanter’s Tower,
rising from the stony stronghold of his mythic rock
rooted with bones
exposed above, below half wading in restless waves.
The enchanter’s tower
flaring up from green mounds studded with tousled blue cactus,
leaning into land, head
erect, crowned with weeds,
braced against past and future gales,
rearing against the placid sea.
Enter the enchanter’s tower.
Take the dry scree path.
Be led up the swinging stone gangplank
watched by the white Lady
who guards the enchanter’s world within.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I am happy to read any poems about Italy. Any of yours will make a good souvenir for those who follow you. This one will prompt me to look up what I can find about Praiano on the Internet. See my two 'Italian' poems': O Roma, O Roma and Che Bella Vista.