Along the avenues of Florence,
Here goes a man at the wake of dawn
Making no stir upon the passersby.
Along the silent streets
Here goes a man in the veil of mist
Not stirred by the waking scenes.
In a broad brimmed felt hat,
Within his dog-skin boots without socks,
He treads along a solitary figure.
All thro’ the previous night,
With his mallet and tools,
He was in the womb of creation.
And, upon the blocks of marble,
It was an endless clang.
All thro’ the silent night,
The goat grease candle was a silent witness.
And, if one sought his address,
He was to get a real shock.
Pieta and Sistine vault scenes-
He is the spring of the Florentine meads.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
n a broad brimmed felt hat, Within his dog-skin boots without socks, ............................................................ Ravi, it's the Remarkable poem, about the big Mikhel Angelo... and You are the good artist, i see this well..10.... Tsira