To my City

Rome, your rowdy din nags me throughout the year;
I can't stand your raw pride,
I fight unceasingly the flaws that you can't hide.

Then, unexpectedly in August, you take away the mask,
the sleepy athmosphere gains the upper hand,
the silence wraps me around me and I feel on the mend.

The revealed charm knocks me out, you win again, as ever......

[D'altronde, si può pretendere la licenzia poetica, e lasciamo perdere le correzioni.]