Heaven it is that all seek,
Through the hells, pass I must.
The road I walk is thorns and dust.
Though the destination seems bleak,
In pain I must neither creak,
Nor waver in carnal lust.
In tempest, those who rust,
Are the ones whose lives end meek.
His name to my lips seems glued
'til the end of road I reach,
Where awaiting me stands my reward.
My eyes see what they pursued,
Since eterne, what they did beseech
The beautiful sunset boulevard.
PS: This is my first attempt at writing an Italian sonnet.