Again and again I have seen life’s evil: it was the strangled brook, still gurgling, it was the curling of the shriveled leaf, it was the fallen horse. I have known no good except the miracle that reveals the divine Indifference: it was the statue in the drowsy trance of noon, the cloud, the cruising falcon.
(Transl. by David Young)
Spesso il male di vivere ho incontrato: era il rivo strozzato che gorgoglia, era l’incartocciarsi della foglia riarsa, era il cavallo stramazzato. Bene non seppi, fuori del prodigio che schiude la divina indifferenza: era la statua nella sonnolenza del meriggio, e la nuvola, e il falco alto levato.
