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happy who ...

Felice those with wings vigorous
back on the boredom and the vast sorrows that oppress with weight
the misty life
rises to serene and luminous fields! Happy thoughts
whistle as larks
in free flight to the skies in the morning!
Happy is he who, simple, hovering life and will
the language of flowers and silent things!


Baudelaire

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rain is already with us

Even the rain is with us,
shakes up the quiet air.
Swallows skim the waters off
at the lakes of Lombardy,
fly like gulls on small fish;
hay smells over the fences of the gardens.
Another year has blown,
without complaint, without a cry raised
to win all of a sudden one day.

Salvatore Quasimodo