NOVEMBER (R.Moro)

"Und das ist das Ewig-Eine,
Das sich vielfach offenbart
Kleine das Grosse, gross das Kleine,
Alles nach der eignen Art;
Immer weschselnd, fest sich haltend
Nah und fern und fern und nah,
So gestaltend, umgestaltend:
Zum Erstaunen bin ich da." (J.W.Goethe)

November, a light rain falls,
the tolls of the bells he accompany the breath of the wind,
an icy breeze that snowstorms,
she shakes the head of hair of the trees
once luxuriant but you by now mark from the season.
A solitary leaf worn out from the time
she desists she falls
shet try to stay suspended she wag
while the wind upsets it
with his breath.

The struggle is learn,
the cry of the wind
he triumph in the aura,the leaf,
dejected, she collapse to the ground.
Is the end.

November,a light rain falls
the tolls of the bells she accompany the whiff of the wind,
and I what I was
but that I won't be anymore
I am wraped from the obscurity
from the night without light,
my shade has swallowed
in the darker and deep abyss: and in
the dark warmth of the darkness
I have found the peace.

"I have lived, I was, but I won't be, anymore."

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