Wandering from the parent bough, <br />Little, trembling leaf, <br />Whither goest thou? <br />'From the beech, where I was born, <br />By the north wind was I torn. <br />Him I follow in his flight, <br />Over mountain, over vale, <br />From the forest to the plain, <br />Up the hill, and down again. <br />With him ever on the way: <br />More than that, I cannot say. <br />Where I go, must all things go, <br />Gentle, simple, high and low: <br />Leaves of laurel, leaves of rose; <br />Whither, heaven only knows!'<br /><br />Count Giacomo Leopardi<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/imitation-7/
