The Postman (Il Postino), Poetry and Music SuiteAdonic Angela

Today I stretched out next
to a pure young woman
as if at the shore of a white ocean,
as if at the centre of a burning star
of slow space.
From her lengthily green gaze
the light fell like dry water,
in transparent and deep circles
of fresh force.
Her bosom like a two flamed fire
burned raised in two regions,
and in a double river reached
her large, clear feet.
A climate of gold scarcely ripened
the diurnal length of her body
filling it with extended fruit
sand hidden fire.