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Nothing is more beautiful than bestowing a flash of wonder.

It is a gift of which no matter remains but an indelible trace

in the memory of our goodness.

Remember? The first snow? Wonder!

Wonder redolent of moon and sun.Wonder speaks of

dawns, sunsets, abandonment and rebirth.Wonder redolent

of ice blue and white horizons, strong with rock and soft

with white cloud, which has the scents of fog on the fields

and accompanies the stars in our darkness, endlessly.

I am a collector of wonders.

I collect everywhere grace, fate, chance, time, I allow myself

to find them. I place them in a transparent silk bag.

Together they shine and pulse like a firefly in the night,

a bow lamp on the sea or that Alpine shelter up above.

I walk with my baggage of wonder, I walk along straight,

easy roads, on winding ones and those that lead uphill.

I walk with my heart beating and my body sweating of toil.

I walk with my questions and without seeking answers.

Not a day passes without bringing me, unexpected, a flash

of wonder. No night in which I fail to pay back at least one.

I unfasten the bag, open it and it appears, noiselessly

but trembling with soft light, a small ray of wonder.

Today I give it you,

as first flake and breath of snow.

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