The two of us stroll through the ancient city,
With its many windows and orchards,
From every window we hear a ballad,
From every portal we hear a poem.
Can you feel the sound of verse?
It comes with a warm breeze from the city's ancient past,
It comes from the mouths of statues sleeping under the doorsteps,
And under the roots of vines hanging from the trellises.
Had you come two thousand years ago,
The ancient sculptors
Would have fashioned you in Alpine marble
And you would have slept under the foundations of a doorway,
Undiscovered for a long time,
And I would have arrived two thousand years later
To discover you and carry you off in marble to the Art Gallery...
Don't laugh!
That is certainly the way it would have happened.
How fortunate it is that you were not born two thousand years ago
And that we could now meet.
In my arms you will be warmer
Than as a statue in the gallery.