Balada da Neve

Lightly, lightly they beat,
As if calling out to me.
Is it rain? Is it people?
It's certainly not people,
And the rain doesn't beat like this.

It's perhaps the wind:
But just a little while ago,
Not even a needle moved
In the quiet melancholy
Of the pine trees along the way...

Who beats, like this, lightly,
With such strange lightness,
That is barely heard, barely felt?
It's not rain, nor people,
Nor is it the wind for sure.

I went to see. the snow was falling
From the gray-blue sky,
White and light, white and cold...
How long it's been since I've seen it!
And how I miss it, my god!

I look at it through the window.
It turned everything the color of linen.
People pass by and, as they do,
They leave footprints and traces
In the whiteness of the path...

I keep looking at these signs
Of the poor people moving forward,
And I notice, among the others,
The miniature traces
Of little children's feet...

And barefoot, sore...
The snow still lets me see them,
First, well defined,
Then, in long grooves,
Because they couldn't lift them!...

Let those who are already sinners
Suffer torments, in the end!
But the children, sir,
Why do you give them so much pain?!...
Why do they suffer like this?!...

And an infinite sadness,
A deep disturbance
Enters me, stays trapped in me.
Snow falls in nature
. and falls in my heart.