Ciao. Non credo tornerò più qui. That's a goodbye, bye bye. (close a door, open the next.)
the forest where the sun shines through the leaves
"Reaping and singing by herself; Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; Will no one tell me what she sings?— For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago, Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again? The Maiden sang As if her song could have no ending; The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more."
— The Solitary Reaper (extracts), W. Wordsworth |