In crowns beneath the leafless trees,
Like refugees constrained on seas,
You light the lanes and corridors,
On catkin’d, coppiced, forest floors.
Between your arms of green you chime,
The quiet song of wintertime,
Surprising those on winter ways,
And greeting some from older days.
From Syria some of you come,
And some from cedar’d Lebanon,
Tulip’d Turkey, Azerbaijan,
Or tiled and turquoise Isfahan.
Montenegro and torn Ukraine,
Franciscan valley, pilgrim’d Spain,
Then, following the melting snow,
In to our Earth, once more you go.
From Ural foothill folklore came,
Another gift that eases pain,
A scientific healing balm,
Galanthamine - dementia charm.
Now time has made you native here,
Ringing in our flowering year,
So welcome snowdrop, milk-flower strong,
Whatever land you once came from.
As many from these snowdrop lands,
And others from snowdrop-less sands,
Constrained in crowns on leaky boats,
Tonight may spin on Europe’s moats.
- Robert Graham
Roberto reads the poem, here ⇒⇒ ⇒⇒
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2 i 2019