O scythe of waning moon

by

Gabriele D'Annunzio


O scythe of waning moon

that shines on the water of the desert

O scythe of silver, what a harvest of dreams

ripples in your mild and diffuse light down here!


Short longings of the leaf,

sighing of the flowers in the wood,

emanate to the sea: not song nor cry

not sound through the vast silence goes.


Oppressed in love, in pleasure,

the people of the world of the living are asleep...

O waning scythe, what a harvest of dreams

ripples in your mild and diffuse light down here!




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