Poetry
1 min
A PRIMAVERA
ISABELLA PAPAGNA
At dawn days get longer,
in the fields colourful grass blooms,
there is a scent in the air as sweet as a passionate melody.
The sun slowly expands in spring,
dispersing compact clouds,
hearts hug each other, life shines again
buds bloom
the stocks wander in the city and seas never dissolve.
The wind opens my mind to lost memories,
the swishing of the branches lets us gaze at the hills.
There are bees, that swing from flower to flower,
so hard-working and blissful,
in nature, everything becomes covered with shadows and kisses.
Swallows come back in a parade,
flying along the milky way,
drawing accurate arches in the sky.
Hope comes back in spring,
an invitation to dance and
live in merriment.
If the whole cosmos is fresh and colourful,
let us remember that in every rebirth there is a cycle,
since magic grants us the love for the infinite.
in the fields colourful grass blooms,
there is a scent in the air as sweet as a passionate melody.
The sun slowly expands in spring,
dispersing compact clouds,
hearts hug each other, life shines again
buds bloom
the stocks wander in the city and seas never dissolve.
The wind opens my mind to lost memories,
the swishing of the branches lets us gaze at the hills.
There are bees, that swing from flower to flower,
so hard-working and blissful,
in nature, everything becomes covered with shadows and kisses.
Swallows come back in a parade,
flying along the milky way,
drawing accurate arches in the sky.
Hope comes back in spring,
an invitation to dance and
live in merriment.
If the whole cosmos is fresh and colourful,
let us remember that in every rebirth there is a cycle,
since magic grants us the love for the infinite.
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