Giacomo Leopardi (1798 - 1837)

 

 

To Himself

Now, and for ever, you may rest,
My haggard heart. Dead is that last deception.
I had thought love would be enduring. It is dead.
I know that my hoping, and even
My wishing to be so dearly decieved, have fled.
Rest, and for ever. The strife
Has throbbed through you, has throbbed. Nothing is worth
One tremor or one beat; the very earth
Deserves no sign. Life
Has shrunk to dregs and rancor; the world is unclean.
Calm, calm. For this
Is the last despair. What gift has fate brought man
But dying? Now, vanquish in your disdain
Nature and the ugly force
That furtively shapes human ill, and the whole
Infinite futility of the universe.

 

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