H or decided to participate in an initiative which I think is really cool. It's called Poems, and has been proposed by Morna and LadyEarnshaw , two bloggers that I follow with pleasure, this is a poem published every Wednesday, to awaken the love for poetry, to reflect, just for enjoy the beauty of words.
Today I share with you a poem very sad but very beautiful. A poem coated with a melancholy that first sweet, then bitter and dark, that I was infiltrated under the skin. 
X August of Giovanni Pascoli
San Lorenzo, I know why so
of stars for the quiet air
burns and falls, why so much crying in
concave sky sparkles.
A swallow was returning to its home:
killed him: he fell between driven:
she had an insect in its beak:
the dinner for 'its swallows.
Now is there like a cross, which tends
that worm to heaven afar
and her nest is in the shadows, waiting,
chirping ever slower.
Even a man returned to his nest:
killed him: he said: Forgiveness;
remained open eyes and a cry
carrying two dolls in gift ...
Now there, in the remote house,
waiting for him, waiting in vain: he
motionless, astonished, points
the dolls to the distant sky
You, Heaven, from the worlds
serene, infinite, immortal,
Oh! tears of the stars of this atom, opaque
flood of Evil!
