Originally Posted by
Neely
The Infinite (trans Nichols)
To me this lonely hill was always precious,
And this hedgerow also, where so wide a stretch
Of the extreme horizon’s out of sight.
But sitting here and gazing, I find that endless
Spaces beyond that hedge, and more-than-human
Silences, and the deepest peace and quite
Are fashioned in my thought; so much that almost
My heart fills up with fear. And as I hear
The wind rustle among the leaves, I set
That infinite silence up against this voice,
Comparing them; and I recall the eternal,
And the dead seasons, and the present one
Alive, and all the sound of it. And so
In this immensity my thought is drowned:
And I delight in sinking in this sea.
I must admit that when I first read this poem, the first part of it immediately reminded me of something not altogether out of Wordsworth, the way the narrator takes comfort (in some way) in re-visiting nature. This is perhaps also the case because he takes pains to name the particular elements of nature in exact detail reaffirming that it is the exact place he has been before “this lonely hill” “this hedgerow” “that hedge” similar to that of say “Tintern Abbey” where Wordsworth does the same with “these waters” “these steep and lofty cliffs” “this dark sycamore” etc, etc. The difference being of course that one takes comfort in nature in itself, even delights in nature, whereby one uses nature simply because it presents the infinite which blocks out darker internal voices and woes. If “The Infinite” can be seen as light in any way, then surely the whole thing is tinged in despair because we know that such temporary reliefs are just that? Because of this for me, the whole piece is still ultimately clouded in sadness because nature or the infinity the narrator gets from nature, only offers a short respite from darker thoughts from which the narrator/Leopardi figure is obviously suffering.