There are names the city has hold,
Glass, masks and bridges of old.
Where bridges stretch to a place and next,
Festivals and galore, recorded in text.
Great people of time across the urban sea,
Wander to relax or inspire to be.
Such love can find the corner of street,
To hopes and dreams would likely meet.
And the light of Venice, kept salt water fresh,
The warm, resilient sun soon scorches the flesh.
The heavy stone and the great marble floor,
Canal of roads that leaves and more.
A separate bound the shattered land,
Bridges to connect with gondolas at hand.
A watery mix of blue and jade lagoon,
On heavy boats that trade at noon.
And crafty roles of the Murano glass,
Collection of masks with music and bass.
Distinct of purchase of silk and spice,
A prelude to buy for the artists’ entice.
Even though the city cannot escape,
Submerge to sea before its fate.
An era to reign this gradual name,
Oh Venetus, the glory rich to fame.
From the rotten stone that submerge
To the sea and past such culture emerge.