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THE POEM

Freedom by Marcello Comitini
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If it wasn’t possible that day

to lay me down at the foot of an olive tree

that in its branches

patiently weaving lights and shadows,

would wrap me in luminous lacework

and little animals

from the raven to the ant – not the worm! –

would break off a portion or a crumb

mistaking me for food donated by the gods,

lay me at least on the threshold

of an enormous cave

that by day shelters me from the heat,

and by night, amidst the bright stars,

may the moon enchant me with its charm.

 

(Translation by Susan Perry)

 

From Formule dell’anima (2011)

Puglia. Age-old olive tree. Photo Archivio Fotogramma

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