Thus we spoke of the eternal
Sicily, of the things of nature;
from the scent of rosemary
to the taste of honey,
the swaying of wheat on
a wind Mary day,
the gusts of perfume
spilling out of the citrus
groves at sunset...
we talked about the magic of
certain summer nights
when the stars are mirrored
in the sleeping sea and the
spirit of those lying
amongst the mastic trees
is lost in the vortex
of the sky ....

From the tales of
Tomasi di Lampedusa