I exile myself; so shadow fills with myrtle, and subdued space lays me down lightly. Nor does love achieve happy sylvan harmonies with me in a lonely hour: paradise and marshland sleep in the hearts of the dead. And a burial sings in me, that forces into the stony ground like a root, and attempts to mark the opposing path.
(Transl. by A. S. Kline)
M’esilio; si colma ombra di mirti e il sopito spazio m’adagia. Né amore accosta silvani accordi felici nell’ora sola con me: paradiso e palude dormono in cuore ai morti. E un sepolto in me canta che la pietraia forza come radice, e tenta segni dell’opposto cammino.
