Sep 4 • 4M

The Sunday Poem: The Infinite by Leopardi

An evocative piece on the all-consuming beauty of nature.

8
 
1.0×
0:00
-3:54
Open in playerListen on);

Appears in this episode

Ideas Sleep Furiously
Wake up with a Sunday poem.
Episode details
Comments

THE INFINITE

Always to me beloved was this lonely hillside
And the hedgerow creeping over and always hiding
The distances, the horizon's furthest reaches.
But as I sit and gaze, there is an endless
Space still beyond, there is a more than mortal
Silence spread out to the last depth of peace,
Which in my thought I shape until my heart
Scarcely can hide a fear. And as the wind
Comes through the copses sighing to my ears,
The infinite silence and the passing voice
I must compare: remembering the seasons,
Quiet in dead eternity, and the present,
Living and sounding still. And into this
Immensity my thought sinks ever drowning,
And it is sweet to shipwreck in such a sea.

Giacomo Leopardi - Wikipedia

Ideas Sleep Furiously is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.