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Rain in the Pine Woods
by
Gabriele D'Annunzio
translated by Daniele Barbero
be silent,
as I approach the bushes
I can't hear the human words you say,
but I hear newer words spoken
by droplets and leaves
remotely
listen
rain is dripping from broken cloud
rain on salty burned tamarisks
rain on sharp edged pines
rain on divine myrtles
on glowing blooming brooms,
on thick junipers red berried cones
rain on our sylvan faces
rain on our skyclad hands
on our thin clothes
on new thoughts blooming in our soul
on the radiant tale
that yesterday enchanted you
and today charmes me,
Hermione
can you hear?
rain drips on remote greens
with a burst varying in the air
according to foliage
thicker or thinner
listen,
respond to the weeping
the chant of cicadas
the austral cry can not frighten
nor does the ashy sky
the pine has one sound
and the myrtle another
and the juniper yet another
different instruments
under numberless fingers
and swallowed we are
in the sylvan spirit
living of arboreal life;
and your inebriate face
is soft with rain
as a leaf
o earthly creature
whose name is Hermione
listen, listen.
the chord of the aerial cicadas
fading slowly
covered by the crescendoed weeping
but a chant mixes
hoarser arising from there
from the humid far shadow
softer and dimmer
releases, extinguishes
only a note still shivers
fading away, rises, shivers,
fades away until
is heard no voice from the sea
now is heard on all the foliage
tickling
the purifying silver rain
the tickling varies
from foliage
thicker, thinner
listen,
the daughter of air
is mute,
but the daughter of silt
is far,
the frog
chants in the deeper shadows
who knows where,
who knows where
and rains on your eyelashes,
Hermione
rains on your black eyelashes
as you were crying
but of pleasure
not pale
but almost verdant
as though you emerged from bark
and the whole life is in us
fresh and fragrant
the heart in the chest
is like a whole peach
untouched
between the eyelids
the eyes
are like springs in the grass
are like green almonds
and we go from bush to bush
now joined, now alone
and the vigorous rough green
harshly wraps our ankles
and ties our knees
who knows where,
who knows where!
And rains on our skyclad hands
on our thin clothes
on new thoughts
blooming in our soul
on the radiant tale
that yesterday enchanted you
and today charms me,
Hermione
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