Happy heavenly birthday, dear friend of the pigeons.

In the golden hush of Venice's embrace,

Where Saint Mark's Square whispers secrets to the tide,

My father stood, a gentle silhouette against the lace

Of arching stone, with pigeons as his faithful guide. They fluttered like confetti from forgotten feasts,

Alighting on his shoulders, soft as morning mist,

While gondolas hummed lullabies to the east,

And the lagoon cradled the world in its wrist. Now, on this birthday etched in stars' soft gleam,

We raise our voices to the vaulted skies above—

Where you wander still through eternal dreams,

Surrounded by wings, wrapped in boundless love. Happy heavenly birthday, dear friend of the pigeons,

In Venice's echo, my spirit sings forever.

Paolo Driussi