
ROSES ON THE PILLARS
I don’t know how my translation may sound. For sure, the italian Zanzotto’s original verses are lovely. Read more “ROSES ON THE PILLARS”
I don’t know how my translation may sound. For sure, the italian Zanzotto’s original verses are lovely. Read more “ROSES ON THE PILLARS” →
Of the Magnolia bloomings, I favor the Summer ones. Surrounded by the greenery of the mature leaves. Slightly touched by insects appetites. Obscene in their tumidity. My chirp tells all about it: indolence, and sun, and heat. And lust. And nothing more. Read more “A Cricket’s Song” →
By Emily Dickinson Read more “Nobody Knows This Little Rose” →