The Ponte Vecchio In Florence

Gaddi made me; the Ponte Vecchio are;
Five hundred years already wept on the Arno
The foot, like his Michele Santo
He planted on the draco. While I’m thinking
I see it twisting with a faint sound
The shining scales. He has these heartbroken
Twice my majors. Me alone in the meantime
It doesn’t even move, and I don’t abandon it.
I remember when they were kicked out
The doctors; even when Ghibelline
And Guelfo made peace I remember.
Fiorenza lent me her jewels;
And when I think that Agnolo is divine
It rested on me, I feel proud.