always been dear to me was this hill, And this hedge, which has so much De
the farthest horizon excludes.
But as I sit and gaze,
limitless space beyond that, and superhuman
silences, and deepest quiet in
I thought I pretend, if just for
heart is overwhelmed. And as I hear the wind rustling through the trees
I
that infinite silence to this entry
comparing Vo: and I am reminded of the eternal,
And the dead seasons, and this
is alive, and 'the sound of it. So in this
Infinity my thought is drowned:
It 's sweet to shipwreck in this sea.
Written Poetry between 1818 and 1821, during a visit to Recanati, Marche.
Giacomo Leopardi (Recanati, June 29, 1798 - Naples, June 14, 1837)
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