In stone and dreams, where centuries entwine,
A marvel rises, kissed by the divine,
A marvel rises, kissed by the divine,
Through ages vast, each chiselβs careful hand,
Crafted a vision, a cityβs heart to stand.
From fourteen hundredβs echo, the labor began,
A gift from the Visconti, a noble plan;
Gothic whispers from lands beyond the sea,
Formed an βInternationalβ melody.
Candoglia’s pinkish-white, a treasure rare,
Carried on waters, crafted with care.
Through winding canals, the heavy blocks flowed,
A testament of love in every load.
Behold the spires that kiss the azure sky,
A forest of statues, where old legends lie.
Three thousand four hundred tales carved in stone,
From saints and boxers, a history grown.
The golden Madonnina, with grace on high,
A guardian of Milan, she watches the sky.
No towers may rise, to challenge her reign,
A symbol of hope, through joy and through pain.
Upon the rooftop, where dreams take their flight,
Amongst gothic spires, bathed in golden light.
360 views unveil the city’s embrace,
And whispers of Alps, in the distance, we trace.
So walk through the ages, where time has its say,
In the heart of the Duomo, let your spirit sway.
A living cathedral, in stone, faith, and art,
Echoing centuries, it beats like a heart.