MorningThe arc of the gulf seems to be spellbound
by the sunlight, a balmy, invigorating sun,
and Capocaccia misty in the background
is a solemn tower, mighty and alone.
At Monte Doglia a tangle of clouds
move very slowly to one side, afar...
and you, my Alghero, are white, sweet, shrouded
in softness like a bride leaving the altar.
Now the blue of your sea begins to laugh
as the west wind unsettles the waves
tinging them with red, silver and gold hue,
while the rising sun starts to burn and laugh
and every heart begins to sigh for you,
my city, at the birth of the new day.
(Translation by Luigi Bonaffini)