In these early days of rain often comes to my mind the beauty that Gabriele D'Annunzio said in the Rain in pine. And to think that a school did not love her very much, now I find it extraordinary.
Taci. On the threshold of the woods I hear
human words you say, but I hear more new words
speaking
drops away and leaves.
Play.
rains from the clouds dispersed.
rains on the tamarisk
brackish and burned,
rain on the pines
bristling and scaly,
raining on the myrtles
divine
shining on the broom
greeted with flowers, on the
juniper
thick fragrant pampering,
raining on our faces
sylvan,
raining on our hands
naked, on our clothes
frivolous,
on the fresh thoughts that
' soul
novel opens, on the lovely fable
t'illuse yesterday, today m'illude,
or Hermione.
hear? The rain falls on the lonely
vegetables with a rattle that lasts
and varies according to the fronds in the air
more rare, less sparse.
Play. Responds
to tears singing cicadas
that crying Southern
not afraid, neither heaven
ash.
And the pine has a sound, and the myrtle
another sound, and the juniper
more, stromenti
under many different fingers.
and immersed we are in the spirit
Scotch
of arboreal life living;
and your face is soft ebro
rain
like a leaf, and your hair
auliscono
clear as the broom,
or land creature
you name
Hermione.
listen. The agreement
of cicadas flying
gradually
deader
is done under the weeping
growing;
but there is a song mixes
more hoarse
that there salt
Remote damp shade. More and more deaf
dim
s'allenta, is extinguished. Only a note
still trembles, turns off,
rises, trembles, turns off.
is heard no voice of the sea.
Or is heard throughout the frond
Crosc
the silver rain that cleanses,
the Crosc
which varies according to the branch
thicker, less dense.
Play.
daughter
air is silent, but his daughter
silt away,
the frog sings
deepest shadows,
who knows where, who knows where!
And it rains on your eyelashes,
Hermione.
raining up your eyelashes black
sich par
but you weep with pleasure, but not white
virente almost done,
seems to peel you out.
All my life is in us
fresh fragrant,
my heart in my chest is like fishing
intact
between the eyelids
eyes are like pools of the herbs,
teeth in the alveoli
with as bitter almonds.
And we go in offal offal, or joint or dissolved
(green and rude vigor
us belting malleoli
c'intrica knees)
who knows where, who knows where!
It's raining on our faces
sylvan,
raining on our hands
naked, on our clothes
frivolous,
on the fresh thoughts
that opens the soul
news, on the lovely fable
m'illuse yesterday, today t'illude,
or Hermione.
Gabriele D'Annunzio
Alcyone
And 'one of my favorite poems, such as that of Rabindranath Tagore , this other Alda Merini and many others that I hope to share with you, without getting bored too! What are your?
And 'one of my favorite poems, such as that of Rabindranath Tagore , this other Alda Merini and many others that I hope to share with you, without getting bored too! What are your?
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