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Dear Friends near and far,
I have no words, for the wonder, and the depth of sensations, and feelings, and emotions, and still emotions, and understanding that the mere vision of this painting causes me. This masterpiece of such beauty is here in my city, here among the thousand skyscrapers of New York. My pilgrimage is a ritual, I walk on 53rd street and, cross the entrance and go up to the 5th floor. There is infinity behind every single brushstroke. In front of this devastating masterpiece, I get lost, and it is difficult to find myself. I find in this representation of my feeling, little me in front of so much strength, the poem by Giacomo Leopardi, The Infinity. Only his poetry can describe my state of mind in front of so much splendor and light and universe that emanates this starry night.
Giacomo Leopardi (1798–1837)
The infinity (English Version)
This solitary hill has always been dear to me and this hedge, which prevents me from seeing most of the endless horizon. But when I sit and gaze, I imagine, in my thoughts, Endless spaces beyond the hedge, An all encompassing silence and a deeply profound quiet, To the point that my heart is quite overwhelmed. And when I hear the wind rustling through the trees I compare its voice to the infinite silence. And eternity occurs to me, and all the ages past, And the present time, and its sound. Amidst this immensity, my thought drowns: And to flounder in this sea is sweet to me.
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