La Pioggia Nel Pineto

The Rain in the Pine Grove

Hush. On the thresholds
Of the woods, I hear not
Words you say
Human; but I hear
Words more new
That speak of droplets and leaves
Far away.
Listen. It’s raining
From the scattered clouds.
It rains on the salt-scorched
Tamarisks,
It rains on the pines
Jagged and steep,
It rains on the myrtles
Divine,
On the bright broom
With gathered flowers,
On the thick brooms
With fragrant cuddles,
It rains on our faces
Woodland,
It rains on our bare hands,
On our light clothing,
On the fresh thoughts
That the soul opens
New,
On the beautiful tale
That yesterday
Deceived me, that today deceives you,
Oh Hermione
Do you hear? The rain falls
On the solitary
Greens
With a crackling that lasts
And varies in the air
According to the leaves
Thicker, less thick.
Listen. It answers
To the weeping the song
Of the cicadas
That the southern weeping
Does not frighten,
Nor the gray sky.
And the pine
Has a sound, and the myrtle
Another sound, and the juniper
Another still, instruments
Different
Under countless fingers.
And immersed
We are in the spirit
Of the woods,
Of arboreal life living;
And your face, drunk
Is soft with rain
Like a leaf,
And your hair
Sways like
The bright brooms,
Oh earthly creature
That you are named
Hermione.
Listen, listen. The harmony
Of the airy cicadas
Gradually
Grows fainter
Under the weeping
That increases;
But a song mixes in
Rougher
That rises from down there,
From the damp distant shade.
Fainter and fainter
It loosens, it fades.
Only one note
Still trembles, fades,
Rises, trembles, fades.
No voice of the sea is heard.
Now is heard over all the foliage
The rustling
Of the silver rain
That cleanses,
The rustle that varies
According to the foliage
Thicker, less thick.
Listen.
The daughter of the air
Is silent; but the daughter
Of the distant mud,
The frog,
Sings in the deepest shadow,
Who knows where, who knows where!
And it rains on your eyelashes,
Hermione.
It rains on your black eyelashes
So that it seems you weep
But with pleasure; not white
But almost greenish,
It seems you emerge from bark.
And all life is fresh in us
Fragrant,
The heart in the chest is like an untouched
Peach,
Between the eyelids the eyes
Are like springs among the grasses,
The teeth in the gums
Are like unripe almonds.
And we go from thicket to thicket,
Now joined, now unbound
(and the rough green vigor
Binds our ankles
Entangles our knees)
Who knows where, who knows where!
And it rains on our faces
Woodland,
It rains on our bare hands,
On our light clothing,
On the fresh thoughts
That the soul opens
New,
On the beautiful tale
That yesterday
Deceived me, that today deceives you,
Oh Hermione.