Oh gracious moon, now as the year turns, <br />I remember how, heavy with sorrow, <br />I climbed this hill to gaze on you, <br />And then as now you hung above those trees <br />Illuminating all. But to my eyes <br />Your face seemed clouded, temulous <br />From the tears that rose beneath my lids, <br />So painful was my life: and is, my <br />Dearest moon; its tenor does not change. <br />And yet, memory and numbering the epochs <br />Of my grief is pleasing to me. How welcome <br />In that youthful time -when hope's span is long, <br />And memory short -is the remembrance even of <br />Past sad things whose pain endures.<br /><br />Giacomo Leopardi<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-the-moon/
