It's yesterday's mansion...

It is the mansion of yesterday, the one from my childhood,

with homely tenderness and bosom warmth,

that still raises its forehead, on the verge of agony,

in the meantime collapse to which nothing is foreign.

 

The ancestral wing appears melancholy

of the crazy old swarm, today with distant beings

and in the shadow of mother, loving, is added

the protective tone, the watchful eyes.

 

The children lived it, charm of abode;

scents of her patio, shy honeysuckle

with the white jasmines in the blue bower.

 

And we keep silence so that the soul returns

to remember images of the happy years,

now feeling like intruders or strangers.

 

by Marilina Rebora

 

private location

 

Done