The Hill Of The Oranges Poem by Gianfranco Aurilio
The Hill Of The Oranges
We were always waiting
for an excuse to stay alone
and we would let the time
forget about us.
We have grown up together
with the scent
of the orange-blossom
of the white trees.
We opened the heart
among confessions
and no more concealed
secrets.
We would free
the dreams
locked
in the coffer of fear.
Pages of youth
hidden
among the petals
of a flower.
17.3.'10
The original poem ('La collina degli aranci') is in Italian.
There is no good translation for a poem.
I apologize for mine. Corrections are welcome.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/24/2024 1:55:10 PM # 1.0.0.1119
