Резултати претраге

I write so that the day

I write so that the day when I cease to be
It may be known how the air and the pleasure have delighted me,
And so that my book bears forth to the future crowd
How I loved life and happy Nature.
 
Attentive to the works of the fields and of the houses,
I marked the shape of the seasons each day,
Because the water, the earth, and the mountain flame
Are not so beautiful elsewhere as they are in my soul!
 
I said that I saw and that I felt,
Out of a heart to which the truth was not too audacious,
And I've had this ardor, for the intimate love,
For being, after death, even loved sometimes,
 
And that a young man, then, reading that which I have written,
Feeling for me his heart affected, troubled, surprised,
Having completely forgotten of his real wives,
Shelters me within his soul and prefers me to them . . .