The Branches In Late Autumn

Poem by Alan Bern

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Quali fioretti dal notturno gelo
chinati e chiusi, poi che ’l sol li ’mbianca,
si drizzan tutti aperti in loro stelo,
tal mi fec’io di mia virtude stanca

Night’s freeze, those florets bent over and closed up,
even the littlest ones, muscular, stand
in bright, white sunlight on their stems, all opened,