I know that you whose name I know
over time changed so much
your tune and flavour and colour
and that what I see is only
partly the dream I touch.

And the same for me, always
actracted by unending bodies
And moved by ever changing winds.

Nevertheless,
speaking, hearing, seeing,
you, is always returning
waves and an olive tree seated
in the garden and deep shade
lighting up the summer
softening the heavy
heat: without it everything
would be dread as it is
when you are not with me.

It seems, in that, our fortune
as if life moved us leaving untouched
our respective and relative distances.
 

For these reasons, perhaps, you are still
for me a hidden winter fire.

To read the original Italian version please click here.