3

3 tree

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth’s flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

Trees, Joyce Kilmer

Credo che non potrò mai vedere
una poesia amabile quanto un albero.
Un albero la cui bocca affamata sia puntata
contro il seno dolce e fluttuante della terra;
un albero che guardi a Dio tutto il giorno,
ed elevi le sue braccia fogliari in preghiera;
un albero che possa indossare in estate
un nido di pettirossi tra i suoi capelli;
sul cui grembo la neve si stenda;
che viva in intimità con la pioggia.
Le poesie sono create da pazzi come me,
ma soltanto Dio può creare un albero.

Alberi, Joyce Kilmer

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This entry was published on January 3, 2015 at 7:08 pm and is filed under joycekilmer. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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