Spring in Alvito, Val di Comino

In Val di Comino, the hills breathe anew,

Alvito stirs beneath a veil of dew.

Stone walls warm slowly, kissed by sun,

And shepherd paths in bloom are spun.

Cherry trees blush beside old walls,

Their petals drift through narrow halls;

The castle watches, calm and wise,

While swallows script the April skies.

From fields below, a shimmered green,

Where olive leaves in silver lean,

The scent of thyme and earth and rain

Threads softly through the winding lane.

Bell tones spill across the square,

Echoes rise in mountain air—

And every note, like tender rhyme,

Sings Alvito’s heart at springtime.