《无题》 李商隐 昨夜星辰昨夜风， 画楼西畔桂堂东。 身无彩凤双飞翼， 心有灵犀一点通。 隔座送钩春酒暖， 分曹射覆蜡灯红。 嗟余听鼓应官去， 走马兰台类转蓬.

《无题》 李商隐 相见时难别亦难，东风无力百花残。 春蚕到死丝方尽，蜡炬成灰泪始干。 晓镜但愁云鬓改，夜吟应觉月光寒。 蓬山此去无多路，青鸟殷勤为探看

Not always is true/ that there where the sea ends/the wind starts/that there where winds ends/ the wood starts/ that there where wood ends/ there is a dismal well/ where no voice resounds/ Coming from nowhere/there are words that sail in the wind/and become perennial/cifers and enigmas/ that no rain dissolve/and the sword of fire of high days/anguish and tenderness./ Dispersed and vehement/ life is the bumble-bee that buzzes just an instant/ and will be lost into the dark hours/ not the river, solemn and gentle/ that will pour the waters into a sea/ that makes him everlasting.

Here a poem of a poet who i think had the misluck to be born in a very small cultural area but that he is inmense. Miquel Marti Pol, catalan poet: catalan version and english translation at my best: No sempre és cert/ que alli on acaba el mar/ comença el vent/ que alli on acaba el vent/ comença el bosc, / que alli on acaba el bosc/ hi ha un pou profund/ on cap veu no ressona. Vinguts d'enlloc/ i ha mots que solquen l'aire/ i esdevenen perennes/ xifres i enigmes/ que no dissol cap pluja/ i l'espai de foc/ dels dies alts/ l'angoixa i la tendressa./ Doispersa i vehement/ la vida es l'abegot/ que brunz un ol instant/ i es perdra dins la tarda/ no el riu, solemne i dòcil/ que lliurarà les aigües a una mar/ que el faci perdurable.

here's mine: Out of the sighs a little comes, But not of grief, for I have knocked down that Before the agony; the spirit grows, Forgets, and cries; A little comes, is tasted and found good; All could not disappoint; There must, be praised, some certainty, If not of loving well, then not, And that is true after perpetual defeat(...) Dylan Thomas_ the Italian translation: Dai sospiri nasce qualcosa, Ma non dolore, questo l’ho annientato Prima dell’agonia; lo spirito cresce, Scorda, e piange; Nasce un nonnulla che, gustato, è buono; Non tutto poteva deludere; C’è, grazie a Dio, qualche certezza: Che non è amore se non si ama bene, E questo è vero dopo perpetua sconfitta(...)