Summer Dream by Giosuè Carducci

Poem "Summer Dream" by Giosuè Carducci
Tags: Summer
Between the battles, Homer, always ringing in your poem
the hot hour overcame me: I bowed my head in sleep
on the shore of Scamander, but my heart fled me on the Tyrrhenian.
I dreamed, placid things of my new years I dreamed.
No more books: the room from the hot July sun,
dazed by the wagons rolling on the cobblestones
of the city, broadsides: rising around my hills,
dear wild hills that young april rifioría.
He was going down the beach with fresh murmurs a gush
while becoming a river: my mother walked along the river
prosperous over the years, drawing a baby by hand
whose golden locks shone on her white shoulders.
The little boy went with a small step of glory,
proud of maternal love, struck in the heart
from that immense feast that the alma nature sang.
But the bells rang up from the castle
announcing Christ turning tomorrow to his heavens;
and on the peaks and on the plain, for the auras, for the branches, for the waters,
correa the spirit melody of spring;
and the peach and apple trees were all white and red flowers,
and yellow and blue flowers laughed all the grass below,
and the red clover dressed the slopes of the meadows,
and the hills covered with golden broom,
and a sweet aura moving those flowers and smells
it came down from the sea;  in the sea four white sails
they went slowly rocking in the sun,
what sea and earth and dazzling sky surrounded.
The young mother looked blissfully into the sun.
I looked at his mother, he looked thoughtfully at her brother,
this which now lies far away on the hillock of the flowery Arno,
the one who sleeps near the solemn herm Charterhouse;
thoughtful and doubtful he anchors and the aura expired
or return pious of my pain from a land
where the happy years relive among known forms.
Passing the dear images, they disappeared lightly with sleep.
Meanwhile Lauretta filled the rooms with singing joy,
Bice bent to the loom quietly follows the work of the needle.