English Poem

Before the ruins of the Scala Dei Charterhouse. Only an arch remains, supple and bold, wrapped in the stillness of the mountain air, in this imposing solitude enclosed, at a time when the day begins anew. The world’s indifference, so long sustained, the cruel tidings of unholy war, have not erased from this suffering land the memory of the God-loving, silent flock. Stony walls, in green ivy always draped, with the passage of time blackened and burned, for centuries forgotten and forlorn, in deep quietness held, frozen in prayer, let me behold you with my death-bound eyes. How clear my sense receives what lives in you!