Capitolo 2
as a flower shakes out its perfume or a star it shakes out its light.
Only listening, and they calms every care, as if the silky-soft one
leaves of poppies had been made vocal and you/they had been versed in the ear.
Toward the dark, having seen to the comfort of a family of kind,
to individual-be faithful that they equip in his/her vanity they call lowers him
animals, I went last to walk under the cedars in the anterior enclosure,
listening to that music that suffered it is so happy and so sad--the
least that chirrups of birds to dark twilights in winter as them they gather in
from the fields frozen, from plantation of bushes snow-buried and hedge-file,
and it establishes down for the night in the depths of the evergreens, the
only shelter from their enemies and it protects from the gust. But this
evening that they has not manufactured ado on their house-arrival. To-day perhaps
nobody was risked before. I am very uncomfortable when the red-bird is
forced by hunger to leave the shelter of his/her cedars, from when him, on
the nude or white panoramas in winter, offer the more far-diamond
and the beautiful mark for Death. I advanced I cross to the tree in
what a pair of these birds he perches and the shake, to make sure himself/herself/themselves them
it was at home, and it felt him lifted when they fluttered in the next one
with the express notes that they sends forth they frightened when it woke up.
The longest I live here, the satisfied best I am in the pitchy possession
my terrestrial field-fire, gypsylike, on the edge of a city that holds him/it
on a side and the green fields, passages and woods on the other.
Each, to turn, it is to me as a magnet to the needle. To durations
the needle of my sharp nature toward the country. On that side
everything is poetry. I wander on field and I forest, and through
I race a happy tide to feel that it is as a clear brook through
the lawns of May. To others the needle veers round, and I go
to city--to the places of meeting of the tallest and cannibal animal.
So almost all prose is. I can feel the prose rise