by Giacomo Leopardi
I have always adored this solitary hill,
and this hedge, too, that blocks so much
of the farthest horizon from view.
But sitting here and gazing: unending spaces beyond,
and unhuman silences and fathomless quiet
that the mind unwinds before me, here,
where nearly all that is left for the heart
is dread. And when I hear the wind rustle
these leaves, to those infinite silences I compare
this song. And I remember the eternal and
the dead seasons, and the present and the living
and the sound that they make, and so
this immensity drowns my thought: and
for me, set adrift in these waters,
shipwreck is sweet.