It was always dear to me, this solitary hill, <br />and this hedgerow here, that closes out my view, <br />from so much of the ultimate horizon. <br />But sitting here, and watching here, in thought, <br />I create interminable spaces, <br />greater than human silences, and deepest <br />quiet, where the heart barely fails to terrify. <br />When I hear the wind, blowing among these leaves, <br />I go on to compare that infinite silence <br />with this voice, and I remember the eternal <br />and the dead seasons, and the living present, <br />and its sound, so that in this immensity <br />my thoughts are drowned, and shipwreck seems sweet <br />to me in this sea.<br /><br />Giacomo Leopardi<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-infinite/
