Three Hours At Santi Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

Three were the hours
Santi its rocks
Its small cleft-vales
The buildings rustic
Sprinkled with rare hands
Santi!
Home of my ancestor
Endowed with views
By encircling seas and
Waters
And from your height
Glimmering in the sun…
The walks in the farm roads
Pace after pace
The crispy leaves that
Rare I came by
Creaked under my foot and
Little stones….
You
Be too sacred for me speak
As I tread on the sacred ground
Trod
How many times!
By the ancestor:
And far
And yet so near
Below
Shone glimmering
Gnejna.