Congratulations Baby Shower

silent, you hear?, Listen, it's raining.

Taci. On the threshold of the woods I hear


human words you say, but I hear more new words

speaking
drops away and leaves.
Play.
raining from the clouds dispersed.
rains on the tamarisk
brackish and burned,
raining on the pines and steep scaly
,
raining on the myrtles
divine
shining on the broom
Flowers accepted, on the junipers

thick fragrant pampering,
rains on our faces
sylvan,
raining on our hands
naked, on our
vestimenti
leggieri,
su i freschi pensieri
che l'anima schiude
novella,
su la favola bella
che ieri
t'illuse, che oggi m'illude,
o Ermione.

Odi? La pioggia cade
su la solitaria
verdura
con un crepitío che dura
e varia nell'aria
secondo le fronde
più rade, men rade.
Ascolta. Risponde
al pianto il canto
delle cicale
che il pianto australe
non impaura,
nè il ciel cinerino.
E il pino
ha un suono, e il mirto
altro suono, e il ginepro
altro ancóra, stromenti
diversi
sotto innumerevoli dita.
E immersi
noi siam nello
wild spirit, tree of life living
;
and your face is soft rain ebro

like a leaf, and your hair

auliscono
as the clear broom, or land creature

you name
Hermione .

listen. The agreement
of cicadas flying
gradually
deader
is done under the plant that grows
;
but there is a song mixes
more raucous than there
salt, damp shade
remote. More and more deaf

s'allenta dim, goes out. Only a note

still trembles, turns off,
rises, trembles, turns off.
is heard no voice of the sea.
Or is heard throughout the frond
Crosc

the silver rain that cleanses, the
Crosc
which varies according to the branch
thicker, less dense.
Play. The daughter

air is silent, but his daughter
silt away,
the frog sings
deepest shadows,
who knows where, who knows where!
And it rains on your eyelashes,
Hermione.

rains on your black eyelashes
sich par
but you weep with pleasure, but not white
virente almost done,
seems to peel you out.
All my life is in us
fresh fragrant,
my heart in my chest is like fishing
intact
eyes between the eyelids
between the pools are like grass,

with teeth in the alveoli as bitter almonds. And we go in
offal offal, or joint or dissolved

(rude vigor and green
us belting
c'intrica ankles knees)
who knows where, who knows where!
It's raining on our faces
sylvan,
raining on our hands
naked, on our clothes

frivolous,
on the fresh thoughts that the soul

novel opens,
on the lovely fable that yesterday

m'illuse, now t'illude,
or Hermione.