Poetry from: Mary Oliver
♪ Irena Donno

I would like to write a poem about the world
as though there is nothing to bewitch,
But it’s impossible.
Whatever the subject, the morning sun
He will shed light on it.
Tulip will feel the heat.
Open petals will rub
And it will be a star.
Ants will be bored in the buds,
Shounded by sweetness in the dark.
As for the rocks on the coast, forget it
That every man may be washed as gold.
So I tried to think with my eyes closed,
Of course the birds were singing.
And wild poplars were shaking leaves.
In the sweetest music.
And this was followed by a pleasant, instant silence,
who comes to us all together, caressing for us.
As if we don’t hurry to listen to him.
As for spiders, what else is in their nets?
Even if they don’t say anything or feel like they don’t say anything.
So fascinating is the world, we know, maybe they sing.
So fascinating is the world, we know, maybe even the stars sing,
And ants and peonies and hot stones,
So happy are they where they are, on the coast.
A place of gold.