Always dear to me was this solitary hill

and this brush, which many sides

of the distant horizon hides from view.

But sitting and marvelling, interminable

space there beyond, and superhuman

silence, and piercing stillness

do my mind envisage, until my heart

can endure no more. And as the wind

I hear rustling through the foliage, the

infinite silence to that voice

do I compare: I remember eternity,

and the seasons gone, and the one present

and alive, and its sound. And in that

immensity do my thoughts plunge:

and drowning is to me sweet in that sea.

Translation ©Matilda Colarossi