THE SNOW

THE SNOW

You came in silence
how snow comes,
and in the morning
the heart was all white
and didn’t know what to say.

You covered me
like the smallest of violets
and I felt the white breath
of the earth opening to me
at the song of the chickadee.

Like the apple tree I tremble
at your caress.]

How slight is the moon tonight.

RENATO FIORITO, Italy

Translation Germain Droogenbroodt – Stanley H. Barley