Count Giacomo Leopardi

(29 June 1798 – 14 June 1837 / Rencanati)

Count Giacomo Leopardi Poems

1. The Ruling Thought 4/10/2010
2. The Younger Brutus 4/10/2010
3. To A Victor In A Game Of Pallone 4/10/2010
4. To His Sister Paolina, 4/10/2010
5. To Angelo Mai, 4/10/2010
6. Fragment I 4/10/2010
7. To Count Carlo Pepoli 4/10/2010
8. The Resurrection 4/10/2010
9. To The Spring 4/10/2010
10. Younger Brutus 3/23/2012
11. Palinodia 4/10/2010
12. On An Old Sepuchral Bas-Relief 4/10/2010
13. Hymn To The Patriarchs 4/10/2010
14. To The Beloved 4/10/2010
15. Consalvo 4/10/2010
16. Fragment Ii 4/10/2010
17. Scherzo 4/10/2010
18. Recollections 4/10/2010
19. Aspasia 4/10/2010
20. The Village Saturday Night 4/10/2010
21. To Sylvia 4/10/2010
22. To Italy (1818) 4/10/2010
23. The Last Song Of Sappho 4/10/2010
24. The Ginestra, 4/10/2010
25. The Setting Of The Moon 4/10/2010
26. Imitation 4/10/2010
27. To The Moon 4/10/2010
28. On Dante's Monument, 1818 4/10/2010
29. On The Portrait Of A Beautiful Woman, 4/10/2010
30. To Himself 4/10/2010
31. Chorus Of The Dead 4/10/2010
32. The Dream 4/10/2010
33. The Lonely Life 4/10/2010
34. Love And Death 4/10/2010
35. The Evening Of The Holiday 4/10/2010
36. The Lonely Sparrow 4/10/2010
37. L'Infinito 1/1/2004
38. First Love 4/10/2010
39. Night Song Of A Wandering Shepherd In Asia 4/10/2010
40. Calm After Storm 4/10/2010
Best Poem of Count Giacomo Leopardi

The Infinite

This solitary hill has always been dear to me
And this hedge, which prevents me from seeing most of
The endless horizon.
But when I sit and gaze, I imagine, in my thoughts
Endless spaces beyond the hedge,
An all encompassing silence and a deeply profound quiet,
To the point that my heart is almost overwhelmed.
And when I hear the wind rustling through the trees
I compare its voice to the infinite silence.
And eternity occurs to me, and all the ages past,
And the present time, and its sound.
Amidst this immensity my thought drowns:
And to founder in this sea ...

Read the full of The Infinite

L'Infinito

Sempre caro mi fu quest'ermo colle
E questa siepe che da tanta parte
De'l ultimo orrizonte il guarde esclude.
Ma sedendo e mirando interminati
Spazi di la da quella, e sovrumani
Silenzi, e profondissima quiete,
Io nel pensier mi fingo, ove per poco
Il cor non si spaura. E come il vento
Odo stormir tra queste piante, io quello

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