From "Prison", a collection of verse by Pietro Gori
O you who read my poor verses,
looking at them, the gentle romance, and hope
scovrir track of supreme love of my thoughts,
glimpse, beyond the secrets
affections, the blades of a blond locks,
or a pupil, that his mistress happy deep beams:
Look! the profile of the women you love
I can not sell it in pale Elzevir,
melt in rhyme nor do I know my sweet sighs.
But haughty disdain - and not for my beloved -
rebels as arrows in the world I vibro;
my good reader, styled to the subject, or throws the book.
Milan, 1891.
0 comments:
Post a Comment