Biography
Often the ill of living... (Eugenio Montale)
Often have I met the ill of living:
it was the choked stream that gurgles,
it was the shriveling of a leaf,
parched, it was the horse, crashed.
Good I have not known, outside the miracle
which discloses divine's Indifference:
it was the statue in the somnolence
of noon, and the cloud, and the lofty hawk.
