Uno specchio insensato

Down the cliffs
    The sea recedes, wakeful, silent.
The chalk hides
    Beneath the crisp blades of grass.
The sun beats
    The world with its wings of warm air
Tosses rose petals
    Into the magical rabbit holes.

Your heart looks
    Into this world as into a crazy mirror,
Cool and withdrawn,
    Yet on the verge of a revelation;
Then someone utters
    Suddenly from the sepulchre of your soul:
"This is you
    And not you, this mirror lies and tells the truth."

His voice echoes:
    "Among the pretty masks there is a face --
It's the stuff
    Of dreams good and bad, of archetypes and instincts.
It is yours
    And not yours, it's a tormenting, mocking mirror,
An image
    More real than the real thing you thought you knew."

His voice booms:
    "You have taught yourself many kinds of surrender --
To apathy
    And love, to your dormant strength and your incessant weakness.
Yet deep within
    Many more still wait to be uncovered.
Choose your right pace
    Lest you should learn them all too soon and perish."

His voice sings:
    "Up in the grey Sussex sky above the angry sea
Your other self
    Manifests as the hot sun drawing tears from your eyes.
Let it blind you.
    Let those tears and those words freely flow.
Say your prayers
    To this universe of delightful gifts,

To the grass
    Whispering the words of calm into your ears,
To the trees
    Rejoicing with you at the utmost wonders,
To the waves
    Chanting the words of power from their age-old spell book,
To your heart
    Making good on its promise when you have long ago given up."

O gloriosa 
    Santa Lucia, che alla professione della fede, 
Associasti 
    La gloria del martirio, ottienici 
Di professare 
    Apertamente le verita del Vangelo 
E di camminare 
    Con fedelta secondo gli insegnamenti 
Del Salvatore.