"Taranto, only for anchors and dockings
secure yourself in the well-defended mirror,
do you redden in fresh purple so much?
So much that, between San Cataldo and your oldest
wall that recalls Byzantium and Aragon,
Swabia and Anjou, can you listen?
It does not flash, nor thunder on the Great Sea.
Your Bridge turns around its iron hinge,
and your Canal rumbles of iron.
Thus the beautiful ships,
ready to enter the safe dock,
turn the stern towards the ionic horizon".
In the subtitle
cit. Guido Piovene