Una poesia de "Walt Whitman" que m’ha arribat per mail des d’Itàlia.
When Lilacs Last in the Door-yard Bloom?d
WHEN lilacs last in the door-yard bloom?d,
And the great star early droop?d in the western sky in the night,
I mourn?d?and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.
O ever-returning spring! trinity sure to me you bring;
Lilac blooming perennial, and drooping star in the west,
And thought of him I love.
O powerful, western, fallen star!
O shades of night! O moody, tearful night!
O great star disappear?d! O the black murk that hides the star!
O cruel hands that hold me powerless! O helpless soul of me!
O harsh surrounding cloud, that will not free my soul!
In the door-yard fronting an old farm-house, near the white-wash?d palings,
Stands the lilac bush, tall-growing, with heart-shaped leaves of rich green,
With many a pointed blossom, rising, delicate, with the perfume strong I love,
With every leaf a miracle……and from this bush in the door-yard,
With delicate-color?d blossoms, and heart-shaped leaves of rich green,
A sprig, with its flower, I break.
Walt Whitman (1819?1892).
Da: "Leaves of Grass"- Foglie d’erba
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