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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=389861" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Eveningsong at Bellosguardo</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=389861" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Chi vuol esser lieto, sia:<br>di doman non c'e certezza.<br>-Lorenzo di Medici</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=389861" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">In the poplars' lengthening shadows on this hill,<br>amid the rows of marigolds and earth,<br>and through the boxhedge labyrinth we walk,<br>together, to the choiring twilight bells.<br>Their fugue of echoes echoes through the hills<br>and sings against this time-streaked, flowering wall<br>where breezes coax the potted lemon trees,<br>the pendant, yellow fruit and shiny leaves.<br>Beneath the flaming watercolor sky,<br>the cultivated, terraced dropp of hill,<br>a gleaming city with its towers and domes,<br>the Arno shimmering as its drowns the sun.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=389861" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Chameleon-like, I am tranformed by light,<br>and wine has blurred the edges of the night.<br>What gifts I give on this or any night<br>may be refracted in another light.<br>You understnad this in a foreign tongue,<br>but vaguely, for these things will not translate.<br>I feel it in the cadence of your walk:<br>you are not whom moonlight can create.<br>And you will think the loosening of these thighs,<br>the sudden, urging whiteness of the throat<br>are muted but distinctly pagan cries<br>and in your triumph you will fairly gloat.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=389861" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Tonight the unplucked lemons almost gleam.<br>And with their legs, the crickets harmonize.<br>The trees are rustling an uncertain hymn,<br>and unseen birds contribute trembling cries.<br>When did the summer censor choiring things?<br>We know the blood is brutal though it sings.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Erica+Jong">Erica Jong</a></strong></div>

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