from The Verna
On the Falterona Mountain (Giogo)
The green black and silver Falterona: the solemn sadness of the Falterona that inflates as an enormous petrified horse, that leaves behind herself a cavalry of cracking cracking and cracking in the rock down to the sandy re-boiling of hills far there on the plain of Tuscany: Castagno, hard sandstone little houses scattered along the slope, windows that I have seen lit: that is how to the creatures of the Cubistic landscape, in a barely golden light of inside eyes among the thin vegetal hair the rectangle of her head in an occult delicate line the refined features, blonde Ceres' smile gleams through: limpid under the line of her black eyebrow her clear gray eyes: the sweetness of her lips, her eyebrow's serenity memory of the Tuscan poetry that was.
(You had already understood Leonardo, you divine primitive!)
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