Oh golden mouth,
your light invade the earth
and my look.
Those beams of light seem to open
a magic way, allowing man
to look at the blue of the sky forgetting
the clouds troubled by the menace of the ram.
In this way
my thoughts lean upon my soul
with a naive smile.
I’m like a man who looks at a child
playing with fairy tales,
astonished for being wrapped up
in that embarrassing and tenderly friable game
of ingenuous spontaneity.
Translated by Marina Rosa, Vicenza