The Infinite
The Infinite
It was always dear to me, this solitary hill,
and this hedgerow here, that closes out my view,
from so much of the ultimate horizon.
But sitting here, and watching here, in thought,
I create interminable spaces,
greater than human silences, and deepest
quiet, where the heart barely fails to terrify.
When I hear the wind, blowing among these leaves,
I go on to compare that infinite silence
with this voice, and I remember the eternal and the dead seasons, and the living present,
and its sound, so that in this immensity
my thoughts are drowned, and shipwreck seems sweet
to me in this sea.
Giacomo Leopardi
(1798 - 1837)
I include this poem by Italian poet, Giacomo Leopardi, considered Italy's greatest 19th Century lyric poet, for no other reason than I found it beautiful. Can there be a better reason?
posted by Aussiegirl @ 3:03 AM
1 Comments:
OK, Pindar -- we are just going to have to make you a regular contributor to UT -- what wonderful information you dig up. I love the limerick on philologists -- hilariously clever -- thanks. And the derivation of toddy. Now -- I still must find a recipe and post that -- there's still time as it's still not quite midnight and not quite Christmas day yet.
Thanks so much for finding the original Italian of the Leopardi. I had wondered what the original sounded like, as there's nothing like the music of poetry -- and for that one needs the original. Italian is one of the world's most languages, and I mostly know it from my love of opera. So I could probably carry on a rather heated conversation having to do with jealousy, revenge, death, suicide or despair -- but in all likelihood would be hard pressed to ask directions to the coliseum or to the Via Veneto or to order food in a restaurant.
Thanks again for the wonderful comments.
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