Vista esterna del Santuario di Montevergine

When I look upon that moment forever bound,
Mind and heart unite, and with ardor resound.
You, Nonno, lean upon a fence clothed in your Sunday best;
Behind you stands a monument to the glory of the West.

About a thousand years have those whited bricks seen;
And centuries of pilgrims too—how many has Mary here made clean!
The tower stands guard, as angels invisible patrol.
Monks pray; but now Italy has lost her soul.

She can be found again, in the Faith immortal
For men die, but the love of God is eternal.
Christ drove demons from swine;
He will cast them from our land, in time.

In your place, I hope to one day clasp my hands and stand
And pray for you, our people, and the Fatherland.