There is but one focus for his eyes of black.
He looks intently at the bright rows of tubs,
Eagerly fingering his money.

Gelato of all colors and flavors
Lies in front of him; he licks his lips.
Over the counter his money goes; now in his hands a cone.
Red lips lick the cold and sweet, the treat goes down.
Years have passed since imperial greatness – but the splendor of food lives on.

In rugged mountains ringed in mist
You stood, majestic, against the sky
Where mighty timbers soared towards heaven
Your tall spires shimmered on high

Where trickling creek met mighty river
And Voolkys wandered in the sun
Where cave mouths shimmered with hint of diamond
You nestled with beauty matched by none

In fairer days the merchant traders
Thronged to deal in your pleasant streets
Spices and fabrics and fruit from afar
Were bought and sold from the hawker’s seat

They tore down the trees today. I stood in the muddy street and stared in horror at the carnage before me. The pine trees lay in a disgraced heap, stripped of their bark and their dignity. Young saplings had been uprooted and tossed aside casually. The ground now held nothing more than a sea of torn clay. A trickle of water ran from the ditch down the road, carrying bits of leaves and debris along with it. My mother suggested that a water pipe had accidentally been opened. I rather think that the land was crying.