Seven generations Roman,
and one hundred percent male.
That voice, like thunder and wind over Lazio,
and a smile that could melt your kneecaps.
Surging with life, laughing, singing,
telling stories from his naughty boyhood,
here on the cobbled streets that he loved so well.
Fiercely loyal, a truer friend could never be found.
When he sang 'Vivrò!' smacking his old guitar just once,
and then roaring into song,
he did live forever, right there and then.
We live on, caro Bambù, transfused
by your vibrant, unforgettable memory.
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 7:45 PM UTC
Seven generations Roman,
and one hundred percent male.
That voice, like thunder and wind over Lazio,
and a smile that could melt your kneecaps.
Surging with life, laughing, singing,
telling stories from his naughty boyhood,
here on the cobbled streets that he loved so well.
Fiercely loyal, a truer friend could never be found.
When he sang 'Vivrò!' smacking his old guitar just once,
and then roaring into song,
he did live forever, right there and then.
We live on, caro Bambù, transfused
by your vibrant, unforgettable memory.
For Bambù (Carlo Mannù)
"Vivrò!" "I will live!"
©Elisa Maria Argiro
