on all the cobbled streets that ever
ran over riverbeds and replaced streams.
Shame fall over Verona
blur the sunsets grey and the stars
into a dirtier shadow over painted roofs.
Ill luck on all of Italy
raisened wine and fallen olive trees
storm and drought and broken fountains.
Doom and despair, darkness and dust,
Let all the lovers cry:
We have walked the roads of Rome
and Romance is still a lie.
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