Siedono. L'a look at each other. One slender and fair, simple clothes and looks, but the other, thin and brunette,
the other two eyes ... The simple and modest
ch'ardono fix the other two. "And there never
you returned?" Never! "Do not you saw the
more?" No more, dear. "I, yes we came back, and
I saw the white of my sisters, and they relived the
sweet years that you know, those little
years so sweet heart ... "
The other smiled. 'And': do not remember that garden
closed? the brambles with more?
junipers zirl including thrushes?
knocks the bitter?
mysterious secret that song with that flower, flower ...?
'death: Yes, dear. " "And it was true?
so I never believed that, Rachel,
I went to the next flower sad.
was said: The flower has a honey
that intoxicates the air, its vapor that bathes the soul of a
oblivion sweet and cruel.
Oh! the convent in the middle of the mountain
cerulean, 'Mary speaks:
laying a hand on that of his partner;
and both of them look away.
II
see. It rises into the bright sky of May
of their monastery, filled with litanies
, full of incense.
They see, and smell the fragrance of their thought
of roses and violets in locks,
hint of innocence and mystery.
And in his ears buzz, the mouths
rising melodies, forgotten
there, keyboards
barely touch ... Oh! as you smiled today at gratings,
dear guest? red waves and came back to sounding happy
dormitories
today and now, higher, Ave, repeats,
Ave Maria, your voice in chorus;
and then all at once (why?) weep & hellip ;
They cry a little during the golden sunset, without
why. How many girls are
garden, white here and there with them!
White and talkative. At or to or, with the sound of
sails to the wind, they come.
some remains, and reads in its good book.
aside by their agile and healthy,
a spike of flowers, or rather fingers
spruzzolate of blood, human fingers, breath
unknown spreads of his life.
III
"Maria!" Rachel, "a little more hands
pressing. In that time they saw
childhood, the dear long ago.
Memories (one knows the other to press mute
) sweet, as is the grief and pity
far of a last farewell!
"Maria!" Rachel! " This cry, "Farewell,"
says to himself, then once the word serious
to Mary, but blacks no eyes, "I,"
whispers, "yes, I felt that flower. Sola
I was with the green beetles. The wind
carried the scent of roses and violets in
locks. In the heart, the languid
excitement of a dream that night and had burned
dawn nell'ignara soul off.
Mary, remember that serious evening. The air blowing
light flashes
silent. M'inoltrai slight,
cautious, up to the soft grassy embankments
. I was holding my feet
the thick grass. Smile? And it heard me, Come!
Come! It was a lot of kindness! a lot!
so great that, you see ... (another wonder
up of the eye, and now sees and hears with his long
shudder ...) you die! "
(G. Pascoli)
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