E' questo il primo giorno mite di marzo,
più fragrante di momento in momento,
col pettirosso che cinguetta in cima al larice
che sorge accanto alla nostra casa.
Aleggia nell'aria una benedizione
che sembra infondere un senso di gioia
agli alberi spogli, alle nude montagne
ed ai verdi campi erbosi.
Sorella mia! Ho un desiderio:
ora che la nostra colazione è terminata,
fai presto, lascia le faccende mattutine,
e vieni fuori a goderti il sole.
Edward verrà con te, e ti prego,
presto, metti il tuo abito silvestre,
e non portar libri, ché questo giorno
noi lo dedichiamo al riposo.
Nessuna tetra parvenza sarà legge
per il nostro vivente calendario:
da oggi, amica mia, data per noi
l'inizio dell'anno.
Amore, che ora ovunque rinasce,
migra furtivo di cuore in cuore,
dalla terra all'uomo, dall'uomo alla terra,
- E' questa l'ora dei sentimenti.
Ora un momento potrà darci di più
di cinquant'anni di ragionamenti;
le nostre menti succhieranno da ogni poro
lo spirito della stagione.
Poche tacite leggi si daranno i nostri cuori
cui prestare lunga obbedienza;
per l'anno a venire prenderemo
l'esempio da quest'oggi.
E dal beato potere che aleggia
d'intorno, quaggiù e su in cielo,
trarremo la misura delle anime nostre,
accordandole alla nota d'amore.
Orsù vieni, sorella mia! Vieni, ti prego,
presto, mettiti il tuo abito silvestre,
e non portar libri, ché questo giorno
noi lo dedicheremo al riposo.
***
It is the first mild day of March:
Each minute sweeter than before,
The red-breast sings from the tall larch
That stands beside our door.
There is a blessing in the air,
Which seems a sense of joy to yeld
To the bare trees, and mountains bare,
And grass in the green field.
My Sister! ('tis a wish of mine)
Now that our morning meal is done,
Make haste, your morning task resign;
Come forth and feel the sun.
Edward will come with you, and pray,
Put on with speed your woodland dress,
And bring no book, for this one day
We'll give to idelness.
No joyless forms shall regulate
Our living Calendar:
We from to-day, my friend, will date
The opening of the year.
Love, now an universal birth,
From heart to heart is stealing,
From earth to man, from man to earth,
- It is the hour of feeling.
One moment now may give us more
Than fifty years of reason;
Our minds shall drink at every pore
The spirit of the season.
Some silent laws our hearts may make,
Which they shall long obey;
We for the year to come may take
Our temper for to-day.
And from the blessed power that rolls
About, below, above;
We'll frame the measure of our souls,
They shall be turned to love.
Then come, my sister! come, I pray,
With speed put on your woodland dress,
And bring no book; for this one day
We'll give to idelness.
***
It is the first mild day of March:
Each minute sweeter than before,
The red-breast sings from the tall larch
That stands beside our door.
There is a blessing in the air,
Which seems a sense of joy to yeld
To the bare trees, and mountains bare,
And grass in the green field.
My Sister! ('tis a wish of mine)
Now that our morning meal is done,
Make haste, your morning task resign;
Come forth and feel the sun.
Edward will come with you, and pray,
Put on with speed your woodland dress,
And bring no book, for this one day
We'll give to idelness.
No joyless forms shall regulate
Our living Calendar:
We from to-day, my friend, will date
The opening of the year.
Love, now an universal birth,
From heart to heart is stealing,
From earth to man, from man to earth,
- It is the hour of feeling.
One moment now may give us more
Than fifty years of reason;
Our minds shall drink at every pore
The spirit of the season.
Some silent laws our hearts may make,
Which they shall long obey;
We for the year to come may take
Our temper for to-day.
And from the blessed power that rolls
About, below, above;
We'll frame the measure of our souls,
They shall be turned to love.
Then come, my sister! come, I pray,
With speed put on your woodland dress,
And bring no book; for this one day
We'll give to idelness.
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