Now, in an instant, Rome has turned.
from workaday to the sublime.
For, with its golden mists it seems.
the sun has slowed the flow of time.

The sluggish, muddy Tiber drags.
itself along the river bed.
A cloud of starlings swells and then.
it swoops and circles overhead.

As day begins to fade, it is.
as if the world exhales a sigh.
At first the lilac comes, and then.
a burst of red to light the sky.

The gilded clouds! The rosy glow!
no watercolour can compare.
A glimpse of the Empyrean.
afloat there on the evening air.

Or is this day the dying man.
whose sudden state of fervid bliss.
Confers him one last joy before.
he passes...into the abyss?

The statues here, they live and breathe,
now shadows start to fill my head.
I see no rose or laurel wreath
upon the tomb where I lie dead


What riches can I bring to Rome.
where sculptors and the Men of God.
The painters and the emperors.
and all those towering Giants trod?

If I could leave their twilight world.
and walk along a path less worn.
On wings of gold I'd rise again
and like a phoenix be reborn.