In the courtyard I scent the breath
of the Eternal City,
mingled stones and vegetation
sighing with the ages—
remembering who has passed here
by the scholars’ Aula,  
where dreams
and dogmas dwelt
in reasoned Latin.
Here under  fading frescoes of our fathers and mothers,  
saints and several monarchs,  
I pause this morning  
and breathe their passage,
until the smell of the laundry
reminds me—
even today’s occupations
share the perfume of eternity.