The fog on the steep hills
drizzles rises
and under the mistral
the sea screams and whitens
But through the streets of the village
from the boiling of the vats
the sour smell of wines goes to cheer the souls
The fog on the steep hills
drizzle rises
and under the mistral
the sea screams and whitens
/>Among the reddish clouds
flocks of black birds
like exiled thoughts
in the vesper migrate
The fog on the steep hills
drizzling rises
and under the Mistral
The sea screams and whitens
It turns on the lit logs
The spit is crackling
The hunter is whistling
On the doorstep gazing
The fog on the bristles hills
drizzling rises
and under the mistral
the sea screams and whitens

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