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“O little sliver of moon waning that shines on waves desolately reigning, O little sliver of silver, what mass of dreams swells here towards your gentle glow! Fleeting breaths of foliage, sighs of flowers from the woods exhale to the sea: no song, no cry, no sound pierces the vast silence. Oppressed by love, by pleasure, the world of the living falls asleep… O little sliver waning, what mass of dreams swells here towards your gentle glow! (Trans. Michael Shindler)” — Gabriele d'Annunzio
O little sliver of moon waning
that shines on waves desolately reigning,
O little sliver of silver, what mass of dreams
swells here towards your gentle glow!
Fleeting breaths of foliage,
sighs of flowers from the woods
exhale to the sea: no song, no cry,
no sound pierces the vast silence.
Oppressed by love, by pleasure,
the world of the living falls asleep…
O little sliver waning, what mass of dreams
swells here towards your gentle glow!
(Trans. Michael Shindler)