“Long Live the Sardinians and Italians”
Long live the cliffs where the myrtle grows,
And seas that whisper where the west wind blows.
Sardinia stands like a song in the stone,
Fierce in her silence, proud and alone.
Long live the hands that shape the vine,
That turn old soil into gold and wine.
In fields of olives, in marble light,
Italia breathes with ancient might.
From Rome's lost roads to Venice' tide,
Where beauty walks and gods once died—
A language sung, not merely spoken,
A legacy carved, yet never broken.
Long live the fire that doesn't fade,
In every heart where pride is laid.
For though the world may shift and spin,
The soul of Italia burns deep within.
And Sardinia, wild with sacred rage,
Writes its own lines on history's page.
Long live their spirit – raw and true –
Old as the wind, and fresh as dew.