I started writing this poem on Wednesday and I finished writing this morning. The idea I
came at about eight in the evening, from seeing the nearly full moon veiled by some thin cloud, the kind that stays in the sky after a few hours of rain.
Today the moon conjured up an ancient tale
lost
While shining in the sky, veiled by clouds
thin
Almost full of light and purity,
memory or mystery.
Cold, a long caress of the wind
revealing his face pale. For a long time I've tried, in vain,
With his soul and eyes, Pure
of having the full image
mirrored in a vacuum,
Black and curious, that the sky stared
looking for answers.
slight, thin, sparse clouds danced around
White I looked in vain for the mystery that
With eyes kidnapped.
Still, I searched for a long period
The face of heaven.
Nothing leaked from her: the clouds,
Nothing else I saw. Cultured
shape, the color fled
Lunar
hidden under her veil that seemed to give so much mystery
Cupo in the sky. But when you look, Levato
again,
Priva saw the moon with clouds, the veil
modest,
disappeared All the mystery, the secret
vanished in white.
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