C Broom and chestnut trees

Tullia among the broom
Ester on the hill in bloom

if from the slopes of the Appennines in bloom
the broom
spilled its wild yellow over
on to the highway,
lanes would be stirred
lines would be blurred
direction would dry up

if from the slopes of the Appennines in bloom
the chestnut trees
showered the highway
with stars of sky and sea,
I would be
lost again
and not know
which way to go...

now that it has been so
and the ecstasy of broom
and chest nut trees in trance
have melted the marrow
of my journey
and its urge
in steps of dance..

I am caught
a prisoner of having thought
of you