Edita’s Reviews > The Selected Poetry and Prose of Vittorio Sereni: A Bilingual Edition > Status Update
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Edita
is on page 263 of 368
If it matters to you it’s still summer
look here how on the river bank the tree
flakes its more tenuous leaves:
rosy-yellow petals of unknown flowers
—and to future memory the evergreens
motionless.
— Aug 09, 2023 11:21PM
look here how on the river bank the tree
flakes its more tenuous leaves:
rosy-yellow petals of unknown flowers
—and to future memory the evergreens
motionless.
Edita
is on page 213 of 368
And after all
I have within me wells deep enough
to throw there even this.
— Aug 08, 2023 10:53PM
I have within me wells deep enough
to throw there even this.
Edita
is on page 107 of 368
Only the summer is true and this
its light which evens you out.
And may everyone discover the evergreen
tree, the cone of shade,
blissful purifying water
and spider’s web woven with tedium
on the evil ponds
remain a vernicle of rainbows.
— Aug 07, 2023 04:06AM
its light which evens you out.
And may everyone discover the evergreen
tree, the cone of shade,
blissful purifying water
and spider’s web woven with tedium
on the evil ponds
remain a vernicle of rainbows.
Edita
is on page 73 of 368
And, of the voices that stray
far from me, which one
will be able to turn your journey and mine
into a march of sleepless sunflowers?
But no other good or other evil do they know
than a lake of blue or gray,
your eyes from an avenue’s shadow.
— Aug 04, 2023 09:30PM
far from me, which one
will be able to turn your journey and mine
into a march of sleepless sunflowers?
But no other good or other evil do they know
than a lake of blue or gray,
your eyes from an avenue’s shadow.
Edita
is on page 51 of 368
And the weather tends towards winter.
I tramp the streets
which autumn adorned with green felts
in the days of delicate foxes,
the avenues azure after rain.
At the light’s sign the way is made clear
and over these lands the year lingers.
At a turning, an ephemeral sun,
a cluster of mimosa
flares within the whitest fog.
— Aug 02, 2023 10:19PM
I tramp the streets
which autumn adorned with green felts
in the days of delicate foxes,
the avenues azure after rain.
At the light’s sign the way is made clear
and over these lands the year lingers.
At a turning, an ephemeral sun,
a cluster of mimosa
flares within the whitest fog.