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The Infinite

This solitary hill has always been dear to me

And this hedge, which prevents me from seeing most of

The endless horizon.

But when I sit and gaze, I imagine, in my thoughts

Endless spaces beyond the hedge,

An all encompassing silence and a deeply profound quiet,

To the point that my heart is almost overwhelmed.

And when I hear the wind rustling through the trees

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by Count Giacomo Leopardi

L'infinito

Sempre caro mi fu quest'ermo colle

E questa siepe che da tanta parte

De'l ultimo orrizonte il guarde esclude.

Ma sedendo e mirando interminati

Spazi di la da quella, e sovrumani

Silenzi, e profondissima quiete,

Io nel pensier mi fingo, ove per poco

Il cor non si spaura. E come il vento

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by Count Giacomo Leopardi

Night Song Of A Wandering Shepherd In Asia

What doest thou in heaven, O moon?

Say, silent moon, what doest thou?

Thou risest in the evening; thoughtfully

Thou wanderest o'er the plain,

Then sinkest to thy rest again.

And art thou never satisfied

With going o'er and o'er the selfsame ways?

Art never wearied? Dost thou still

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by Count Giacomo Leopardi

Love And Death

Children of Fate, in the same breath

Created were they, Love and Death.

Such fair creations ne'er were seen,

Or here below, or in the heaven serene.

The first, the source of happiness,

The fount whence flows the greatest bliss

That in the sea of being e'er is found;

The last each sorrow gently lulls,

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by Count Giacomo Leopardi

The Village Saturday Night

The damsel from the field returns,

The sun is sinking in the west;

Her bundle on her head she sets,

And in her hand she bears

A bunch of roses and of violets.

To-morrow is a holiday,

And she, as usual, must them wear

Upon her bodice, in her hair.

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by Count Giacomo Leopardi

To Italy (1818)

My country, I the walls, the arches see,

The columns, statues, and the towers

Deserted, of our ancestors;

But, ah, the glory I do not behold,

The laurel and the sword, that graced

Our sires of old.

Now, all unarmed, a naked brow,

A naked breast dost thou display.

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Count Giacomo Leopardi

The Lonely Sparrow

Thou from the top of yonder antique tower,

O lonely sparrow, wandering, hast gone,

Thy song repeating till the day is done,

And through this valley strays the harmony.

How Spring rejoices in the fields around,

And fills the air with light,

So that the heart is melted at the sight!

Hark to the bleating flocks, the lowing herds!

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Count Giacomo Leopardi

To Himself

Nor wilt thou rest forever, weary heart.

The last illusion is destroyed,

That I eternal thought. Destroyed!

I feel all hope and all desire depart,

For life and its deceitful joys.

Forever rest! Enough! Thy throbbings cease!

Naught can requite thy miseries;

Nor is earth worthy of thy sighs.

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Count Giacomo Leopardi

Calm After Storm

The storm hath passed;

I hear the birds rejoice; the hen,

Returned into the road again,

Her cheerful notes repeats. The sky serene

Is, in the west, upon the mountain seen:

The country smiles; bright runs the silver stream.

Each heart is cheered; on every side revive

The sounds, the labors of the busy hive.

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Count Giacomo Leopardi

The Evening Of The Holiday

The night is mild and clear, and without wind,

And o'er the roofs, and o'er the gardens round

The moon shines soft, and from afar reveals

Each mountain-peak serene. O lady, mine,

Hushed now is every path, and few and dim

The lamps that glimmer through the balconies.

Thou sleepest! in thy quiet rooms, how light

And easy is thy sleep! No care thy heart

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Count Giacomo Leopardi

The Ginestra,

OR THE FLOWER OF THE WILDERNESS.

Here, on the arid ridge

Of dead Vesuvius,

Exterminator terrible,

That by no other tree or flower is cheered,

Thou scatterest thy lonely leaves around,

O fragrant flower,

With desert wastes content. Thy graceful stems

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Count Giacomo Leopardi

First Love

Ah, well can I the day recall, when first

The conflict fierce of love I felt, and said:

If _this_ be love, how hard it is to bear!

With eyes still fixed intent upon the ground,

I saw but _her_, whose artless innocence,

Triumphant took possession of this heart.

Ah, Love, how badly hast thou governed me!

Why should affection so sincere and pure,

Count Giacomo Leopardi