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| Toes at Riotorto, Toscana |
You know it's the start of summer in Florence when the air is so thick with jasmine that you feel drunk, giddily perfumed by the little white flowers. The days are hot and sunny, the nights are crisp and you grab a scarf for the bike ride home. Scarlet cherries, duroni, suddenly appear on the stands of fruttivendoli, and by Friday night most Florentines have evacuated our city, taking to their mountain retreats in the Maremma or to the sea in Cecina.
It's best to start the summer with a poem, I think - a prayer for a season of creativity and new experiences.
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To the Fates
Grant me a single summer, you lords of all,
A single autumn, for the fullgrown song,
So that, with such sweet playing sated,
Then my heart may die more willing.
The soul, in life robbed of its godly right,
Rests not, even in Orcus down below;
Yet should I once achieve my heart's
First holy concern, the poem,
Welcome then, O stillness of the shadow world!
Even if down I go without my
Music, I shall be satisfied; once
Like gods I shall have lived, more I need not.
- Friedrich Hölderlin (trans. Christopher Middleton)
