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{TITEL_EN}Tuscan Light: poem tuscany cloisters


{TITEL}Tuscan Light

{CONTENT} 
<p>
  It is tired from vineyards, fields, cloisters<br>
  thousand-year-old chesnut trees<br>
  saints and murderers<br>
  Cautiously it rises<br>
  in order not to stumble<br>
  clings tightly to cypresses<br>
  before it settles on a hill<br>
  on which perhaps Saint Francis slept<br>
</p>
<p class="smallgrey">Translated by Renate Latimer (Beacons, A Magazine of Literary Translations)</p>


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