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Almost everything about Venice
Has been said or written.
Byron, Goethe, Ruskin, Shelley.
All, in their way, were smitten.
Artists, sculptors, artisans
Spent their lives decorating
This, the most beautiful of cities:
And it is indeed, beautiful.
Even though decay is everywhere,
The plaster falling from the walls.
The tourists flock from far away
Like the faithful unto Mecca.
And the guide books tell you
That the sand is white on Lido:
Well, they, too, are drunk —
Because the sand is brown
And garbage strews its length;
But such is the spell of Venice —
And who am I to tell the truth!
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