On the mountains

( Emma Rotini ITA )

The heart of nature:

Impossible to count the trees

Innumerable as they are

Like the blades of grass.

Bells ring of cows

Grazing so quietly,

Crickets noises mixed

To the wind voice.

Hot sunny beams

Appear now and then

Behind the wondering clouds

Looking like candid wads

And the valley, there

At the bottom

Is so far from here

With its houses,

Its ancient churches,

Its crowded hotels