Carlo Lazzari Poet Elegiac Lyric

Spring In the Small Village

Arrived is now Spring,
The scents of flowers 
scattered in the fields 
Awaken feelings of sleeping children.

Here, the breeze that goes 
Between flowering almonds.

There, weeping of poplars 
Are spreading like white snow.
Far away, along the path,
White magnolias 
Inebriate us with their essences.

Children around 
Are preparing to weave 
Tales born of their dreams 
And entrusted to the wind 
Like their joys.

In the shadow of the willows, I can hear
The babbling of rascal brooks,
While, at the crossroads of the country path, 
I spot the magpies 
Chasing each other in spiteful carousels.

Little girls seated on the steps of the Church 
Comb their dolls while trying gestures 
Learned from their mothers.

As a child, I would flee to gallop 
Towards distant shores of hope,
Towards the sun reclining on hilly roundness.

The joy that awakens 
From the lazy winter gorges 
Soothes us all to sing heartfelt praises 
In our throbbing hearts.

The enchantment overwhelms 
The gaze of an infant 
Who reposes at the slowness of the wind 
While caressing his hair.

Lizards and reptiles 
Overlook the boulders 
Admiring undeterred sunny rocks.

Far away, messy clouds caress
Still and blue horizons
While the cliffs reverberate 
With the squawk of opaline seagulls.

And when the heat of the yellow planet
Falls behind the last hills,
There appears the moon
To inspire gipsy guitars,
Love plots of
Young peasants,
And the fantasies and amusements
Of children in the courtyards 
Of the yellow farmhouses.

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