The Infinite by Giacomo Leopardi translated by Robert Fernandez Dear to me always, this hill, Which, curled like a hook around horizon, Occludes sight. But sitting, looking, Unending space beyond, God-like silence And deep tranquility—my thought’s foundation Sinks, my heart’s cup spills, And like a wind I feel stormy among these plants, And compare immensity with what is near, Applauding the eternal: death’s seasons And the present, this life, her sound. Surrounded by immensity, which veils thought— The shipwreck is sweet in this sea.

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