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Poem
I often visited the prittiest and kindest lady,
who lived by an abandoned, weedy cemetery...
and she told me tales that made me dream;
up that pine-scented and rugged hill, the Devil tripped many times and finally fell:
when her holiness set her gracious face aglow!
And she never cursed God, but continued her creed,
believing that she was put on earth to sanctify love;
and she planted many seeds in the moist garden...flowers that made her life livelier!
 

Exchanging her pure soul for money, never tempted her:
living happily and continuously blessing God's name;
if that's how one is blessed, many shouldn't need to wonder...
how she never asked anyone for anything...relying on Providence! 
Every spring morning she tended to those roses and gardenias, 
like mothers care for their adored children;  and she sang
opera like a glamorous prima donna on the illuminated stage:
how astonished were the passersby hearing those lovely areas!
 

Giovanna, lovely prima donna, sing another beautiful area for me,
let me hear how a soprano can feel that divine harmony;
teach me all the lyrics and the tunes that embellish them:
I am a quick-learner and my passion goes beyond my talent!
Giovanna, lovely prima donna, you sought no honors or earthly glory, 
and your visions were grander than those idolized singers,
who only asked for applauds and repeats from the cheering crowds;
you had none of these...only this aspiring-tenor-to-be! 


I passed by her house yesterday, the shades were pulled down...her garden 
without butterflies was arid and the pretty flowers fluctuated no more; 
and the tall pines trees didn't offer their inebriating, sweet aroma,
but there was no sound of Giovanna's voice, the voice of the lovely prima donna:
canaries and bluebirds weren't frantically tapping on her closed window!
In a white laced dress, wearing red shoes and a green velvety hat:
she displayed her national pride, recalling the enchanted land of music and poetry,
where her unforgettable childhood was spent with an innocence so free!
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