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This poem is taken from PN Review 215, Volume 40 Number 3, January - February 2014.

The Rain Among the Pines: After D'Annunzio Alex Wong
for Nicolò Crisafi

Be still. On the skirt
Of the woods, your human
Words are unheard,
But I hear the new and
Stranger words
Raindrops tell,
And the leaves say,
Far off; - Be still.
The rain falls
From scattery wisps
Of cloud. It rains
On the tamarisks,
Their sun-burnt brine;
It rains on the pines,
Their ragged spines
Rasping; it is raining

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