There is but one focus for his eyes of black.
He looks intently at the bright rows of tubs,
Eagerly fingering his money.
Gelato of all colors and flavors
Lies in front of him; he licks his lips.
Over the counter his money goes; now in his hands a cone.
Red lips lick the cold and sweet, the treat goes down.
Years have passed since imperial greatness – but the splendor of food lives on.