If only I knew where the sky begins,
and were I only ware of where it ends;
I’d state how many stars incandesce here
and also ’bout each thing that our earth tends;
The answers I shall give with no defense.
Look to the east, to the symbols of destiny drawn on Tyrrhenian bunting,
Pirates approaching, rapaciously scavenging; eager for something worth hunting,
Seeing the sight of the youthful immortal they roar and express their elation,
Truly the gods must have favour for sons of the mighty Etrurian nation,
Brought to a landing and leaping like fishes,
Seizing their hostage, their motives auspicious,
Beauty so boundless, a body so healthy
Signals the son of a kingdom so wealthy.
It was indeed the mountains
that obscured him while he traversed the planets;
The Sun reflected by many rivers
did keep him warm while the unending sky
studded with zillions of bright, colourful stars
complemented the beauty of his soul.
When season gets cold and souls colder
Tears freeze before reaching a shoulder
Stories of summer feel older and older
And a weather of solitude starts.
The night pulls in
And the sun makes way for the moonlit sky
October’s golden sun has said its last goodbye
And winter’s chill swirls in the breeze
Shaking the last remnants of Auburn from the trees
Lights in houses glow in the evening air
Shimmering black pavements, under branches bare
Children in soft woollen warmth to the chin
Kicking fallen leaves, the cold blushing their skin
They’ve fallen from the trees that now stand nude and pale,
So leaves my soul to figure what they hold;
I’m lying to myself (no falsehood in this tale),
but on my mind dwell truths about the cold.
Is the weather not presaging what will happen
to grass ploughed well in April, May, and June?
Hand in glove with you is He, nothing’ll mishappen
but the gloves you have worn may wear out soon.