Hasty Shallows Are Leaving the Sky of Baiano

The end of Autumn is still mild and the majestic Mounts of Partenio have no trace of snow; lovely Baiano at its foot is tamed, not wild. One can spot, looking up with delight, different colors of lilacs and roses, lulled by the softest breeze on balconies and windowsills open to glaring sunlight; a Verdi aria is sung by a housewife who is bored, but looking outside she sees all the beauty that excites life and lets her daughter improvise! Hasty shallows are leaving the sky of Baiano, a picturesque town lying in a valley between sturdy mountains that protect her from the harshest winters; see that slim boy run down Via IV Novembre holding his books in his right hand with care! Only the grey-breasted robbins choose to stay, they shriek emitting a loud cry; warm is their nests beneath the red rooftops when frozen rain pelts; ah, they sadly follow the trail of the shallows in dismay! This flaming sunset blinds as the old bronze bells of Santa Croce ring; and in this church, I sat, pondered, and prayed and singing the hymns written by a monk that lived two hundred years ago, and now in the golden city of God, he dwells! Hasty swallows are leaving the sky of Baiano betraying their trust in an iridescent season very calm and charming; I chase after them, then I stop and start to grunt!