Italy
Supping on the fruits of forest,
Liquefied through fermentation,
Chewing on the food of flavour
Echoed with a red fruit there.
You are a nation of such love,
Individual, and closed,
Take it out and hang it airy,
Leave it for the wind to blow
It far and wide to every land,
Outstretching all the oceans blue,
Give of all within aflame,
And notice how it changes hue.
Be of truth, and honest dealings,
Hide not that beyond the van,
Keep the light from dark foreboding,
Give the world a promised land.
The author is not affiliated with any political or religious organisation. Where the work makes reference to God, Lord, Christ or Saviour, for example, substitution for the reader’s preferred spiritual nomenclature is welcomed and encouraged.