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To a skylark By Percy Bysshe Shelley

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To a skylark

By Percy Bysshe Shelley

Welcome joyful spirit, you bird we've never seen, that comes from heaven or near it! You transmit all the feelings of your heart in a song of spontaneous art.

you fly in the sky higher and higher like a coloured sunset cloud; you're singing while you're flying over the ocean.

In the golden light of sunset, that colours the clouds, you first fly slowly than quickly, like a spiritual joy that becomes more and more intense.

When evening comes you disappear in the darkness like a star fades away in the daylight. Although i can't see you, i can hear your song that provokes in me an intense pleasure.

This pleasure is as keen as the rays of the moon ed to arrows, fading away in the light of dawn, so that we can hardly see the moon, but we know it's there.

Earth and air are overflowed with your voice as, when the sky's clear, the moon makes the heaven bright with its light.

We don't know who you are; what can you be ed with? Your melody is intense like a strong storm that flows out from those clouds from which the rainbow starts.

like a poet apart from common people, thinking and writing about spontaneous feelings, till the world changes to a better situation;

like an aristocratic young woman in a tower of her palace, trying to make her love troubles lighter singing sweetly;

like a glow-worm in a valley, with its scattering light that is partially hidden by the grass;

like a rose hidden by its own green leaves, that is deflowered by warm winds, till its scent makes them faint cause it's too sweet;

your music is much more intense than the sound of the spring rain, that colours the flowers, and also than everything that is joyous, clear and fresh in nature.

Tell to mankind, you spirit or bird, what are your thoughts; I've never heard a praise of love (Venus spiritual element) or wine (Bacco material element) expressing a so beautiful ecstasy.

A chorus in a marriage, or a triumphal song, ed with yours would be with no meaning and empty.

What is the origin of your happy song? Which field, or wave or mountain? Which sky or land? What strange kind of love? What state of freedom from pain?

With such a happy and joyful song there cannot be weakness or troubles; you loves and never fulfil your wanting of love.

You know exactly the mystery of death, you know the truth, not like we mortals; it's so, or how can you sing in such a crystal way?

We try to find reasons, we look for something we cannot have; our happiest laugh is filled with some pain; our sweetest songs tell about sad things . we'll never be able to be totally happy.

But I also know that if we couldn't feel hate, fear and pain, we'd never been able to understand your joy.

Your melody's better than anyone else, better than any treasure that we can find in books. You're superior even to the poet, who's already superior to other men.

Teach me half the gladness you know and my mouth will teach it to the world that we'll listen to me as I'm listening to you.


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