still feel his voice as he recited his poems my childhood favorites ...
.
.
Miss Felicita, by this time
night falls in the ancient garden
of your home. In my heart friend
down the memory. And you can still see
Ivrea and I see the cerulean and Dora
and that sweet country that does not say.
.
..................................
the detachment arrived, bitter endless
and was the posting of another era, when the beloved
in smooth bands and crinoline,
garden stretched from a venerable
loud sobbing, waving
coach who went to the border .....
.
....
G. Gozzano - Miss Felicita
