Autumn and its colors
San Martino, Giosuè Carducci
The fog to the steep hills amid the rain ascends, and under the mistral the sea screams and whitens: but through the alleys of the village from the bubbling vats goes the sour smell of wine the souls to rejoyce.
Turns on burning logs the spit, sputtering; stands the hunter whistling on the door to gaze among the reddish clouds flocks of black birds as exiled thoughts, in the twilight migrating.
