Skip to main content
All the beauty,
All the poetry meaning of stars
Is that they are infinitely far
From Earth,
Remain a secret to us.
They are lovingly cultivated
For the sheer pleasure of their profiles, colours, and fragrance:
Now, in April
Amber dandelions,
White tulips, and the green eyes of olives
Appear at the feet of the the Great Ursa,
At the time when Lake Garda
Marries the South wind, Ora.
Suddenly, one of the faraway flowers
Springs from beneath the body of Venus
As if to underline the mystery of a worship
On this Holy Week.
All the beauty,
All the poetry of the night sky
Is that it turns into the mirror of life
On Earth.
Who is it there
Who portrays flowers above my head
As accurately as Da Vinci did?
Who is there
Who has created an almost tactile eden,
But also suspends it in the transparency of the sky layers,
Where the plants float,
Appearing truly alive?
Painting ‘Da-No: La Foresta Rossa 2’, Sara Maino, 2022