"I love the freedom of your solitary
alleys and your deserted squares,
red Pavia, city of my peace.
The fountains sing at the crossroads
with whispered chirping: high towers
sketch the backgrounds, and if my heart is heavy,
they lift it up to the clouds.
Your alleys quickly twist and intertwine as in a
labyrinth; to the walls hang
wisteria and honeysuckle; and
large trees appear from hidden gardens.
A cool twitter of birds comes from that green, a fragrance
of flowers and fruits, a sense of pure shelter, where life is unaware
both of weeping and of death. Much more beautiful are
the beautiful gardens, if hidden: everything
seems more beautiful to me if I see it in a dream.
And it is enough for me to pass along the walls
heated by the sun; and to get lost among your
alleys that meander like snakes
among the greenery of hidden fairytale gardens,
red Pavia, city of my peace ".