Quali fioretti dal notturno gelo
chinati e chiusi, poi che ’l sol li ’mbianca,
si drizzan tutti aperti in loro stelo,
tal mi fec’io di mia virtude stanca
Night’s freeze, those florets bent over and closed up,
even the littlest ones, muscular, stand
in bright, white sunlight on their stems, all opened,
as I, my worthiness now weary, stood straight up
Dante, Inferno II, 127-130 translated by the author
the branches
moved
touching
tree-to-tree
above
& then
ceased
and
the carrying
beyond the falling
The Branches In Late Autumn
Even bare branches remember how to bloom.
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