The Sublime Dream of a Wealthy Merchant
O Serenissima,*fabled city
guarding the bluest lagoon, remain
the Queen of the Adriatic Sea;
on a gondola I glide while
the gondolier sings to luminous stars.
Under bridges of moonlight,
mysteries increase by the dozen;
standing on the Bridge Of Sighs,
a fair-haired girl leans forward
blowing kisses to a gorgeous boy
who stops and smiles back tenderly.
On the topmast he awaits early daylight,
unfurled sails excite his spirit never
fraught. He looks back for a last time,
surroundings whet his curiosity;
behind him stand buildings of break
and stone that have endured time's fury.
The eastern sun comes up slowly,
he rubs his moist eyes and sighs;
his tall ship is ready to depart
for lands rich of exotic spices;
they will be traded for linen
textiles and beautiful glassware.
Months will pass, probably years,
a wrinkle or two will appear
on his sun-tanned forehead
beneath his fluttering red velvet hat;
he will think of Venice before sleep-
the sublime dream of a wealthy merchant.
* Serenissima: The most serene
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