Oh thou hallowed haunting presence
oh thy verdigris embellishments of old
oh thy moldy scrapbooks and thy frescoes
how they bind me in their gilded hold
Oh thy irridescent colors
oh thy detailed rich brocaded folds
oh thy flights of lyric fancy
how they tie my dreams in terra cotta molds
Why were all your paintings flawless
why did your fame not end back when
streets of cobblestone still sounded
with the hoofbeats of Medici's men?
How can I escape those fetters
that your age upon me has enshrined
how can I begin to live my present
and from ancient Renaissance resign?
Oh thou hallowed haunting presence
oh thine verdigris embellishments of old
oh thy moldy scrapbooks and thy frescoes
how they bind me in their gilded hold.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem