There's just no accounting for happiness,
or the way it turns up like a prodigal
who comes back to the dust at your feet
having squandered a fortune far away.
I love this all the wine and the shades pop out in your talking
It even comes to the boulder
in the perpetual shade of pine barrens,
to rain falling on the open sea,
to the wineglass, weary of holding wine.
Arriva perfino per il masso
all'ombra perpetua dei Barrens,
per la pioggia che cade in mare aperto,
per il bicchiere, stanco di contenere il vino.
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11/29/2021 3:28:55 AM # 126.96.36.1992