How can one not love it?
i was born in its shadow,
it saw my first uncertain passes,
under its bulk I went to school,
under its cover I returned home,
raging for a "D" in mathematics.
under it I offered my first flower,
and I cried when a girl said me "No!";
it was the gnomon of my life,
and now, that at last I got old,
i enjoy the echo, coming from its walls,
that my stick raises from the pavement.