The First Star
Dolce e chiara è la notte e senza vento
At the farthest end, a promising mountain
rises, the day already finished.
It is good, not always having what we want
and to build a shack of hopes:
thus, by the twilight, the first star
shines neat, silently incites,
harmless, to a delight that does not torment
by being brief; we know that when it vanishes,
the firmament will be all light.
Hence, I cannot regret my fate;
here I stay, full of premonition
of an auroral, ever future life
that is now merely clear, windless night.