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Poem

Franco Loi

How I love the world, the air, its breath

How I love the world, the air, its breath!
the trees, the grass, the sun, those houses, the lovely streets,
the ever-changing moon, the ivy over the houses;
I like the saltiness of the sea, mad kidding about,
cups between friends, fir-trees in the wind
and all God’s things, even the meanest,
and the trams that pass by, the window panes that shine,
backs hurriedly turned and lowered eyes,
the woman who perturbs you:
the world is there and seems to wait for you
to look it in the eye, for you to heed it
since it’s always there but easy to forget,
to be distracted from it, to nod off…
But when evening’s shadows come,
how the world calls out to you! how that sky
expands and comes upon you in its true
beauty without flaws or kinks in its reflections,
and then for your completion you change colour.

How I love the world, the air, its breath

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How I love the world, the air, its breath

How I love the world, the air, its breath!
the trees, the grass, the sun, those houses, the lovely streets,
the ever-changing moon, the ivy over the houses;
I like the saltiness of the sea, mad kidding about,
cups between friends, fir-trees in the wind
and all God’s things, even the meanest,
and the trams that pass by, the window panes that shine,
backs hurriedly turned and lowered eyes,
the woman who perturbs you:
the world is there and seems to wait for you
to look it in the eye, for you to heed it
since it’s always there but easy to forget,
to be distracted from it, to nod off…
But when evening’s shadows come,
how the world calls out to you! how that sky
expands and comes upon you in its true
beauty without flaws or kinks in its reflections,
and then for your completion you change colour.

How I love the world, the air, its breath

How I love the world, the air, its breath!
the trees, the grass, the sun, those houses, the lovely streets,
the ever-changing moon, the ivy over the houses;
I like the saltiness of the sea, mad kidding about,
cups between friends, fir-trees in the wind
and all God’s things, even the meanest,
and the trams that pass by, the window panes that shine,
backs hurriedly turned and lowered eyes,
the woman who perturbs you:
the world is there and seems to wait for you
to look it in the eye, for you to heed it
since it’s always there but easy to forget,
to be distracted from it, to nod off…
But when evening’s shadows come,
how the world calls out to you! how that sky
expands and comes upon you in its true
beauty without flaws or kinks in its reflections,
and then for your completion you change colour.
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