è sempre stata una delle poesie più belle della storia, a mio parere
oggi mi è tornata in mente

Things do not explode,
they fail, they fade,
as sunlight fades from the flesh,
as the foam drains quick in the sand,

even love’s lightening flash
has no thunderous end,

it dies with the sound
of flowers fading like the flesh

from sweating pumice stone,
everything shapes this

till we are left
with the sound that surrounds Beethoven’s head.

Derek Walcott