Panarea

Panarea

It smells like medlars and sage
almonds and parsley, lemon and roses
the air here at the Anchor House.
Well known and much beloved with
its walls in the beautiful park by the rocks
where the sea is deep blue
Beethoven’s ninth symphony fills its site
and like love itself I grow stronger
and happier and peace enchants me again.

Waiting the sinking fire with love and
love again I can see you by the door.
Lisca Bianca is wounded but stronger
eaten by the quakes, wind and rain.
Seagulls are playing with the waves
and champagne waters you can breath
while sunset colours enter the region
of memory carved by the pen of a poet.