288. ‘I’ ò pien di sospir’ quest’aere tutto,’

I fill all this air with sighs, seeing

the sweet plain from the bitter hills

where she was born, who held my heart

in her hand, in youth and in maturity,

who’s gone to heaven, and with that sudden

parting, brought me to this, my eyes weary

with searching far off for her in vain,

and leaving no place free of tears around me.

There’s no bush or stone on these mountains,

no branch or green leaf in these fields,

no flower in this valley or blade of grass,

no drop of moisture comes from these springs,

nor have these woods so wild a creature

it does not know how bitter is my pain.

‘Abundance of The Days of the Week’ - Elihu Vedder (American, 1836 – 1923), The Yale University Art Gallery