Out of Season

Flow mighty river, your water runs mysteriously Go life-giver, from Italy to the bosom of the sea Swing through Cortina, the village drunk, the war survivor Give us a reason to not indulge you out of season Will you think of Peduzzi and of me a while A million years from now? Will all be forgiven, through death and through your deep dark wisdom? Take to perdition our sweet Marsala and bare religion Because man will come and man will go, I see that now We all must fade away But you will fall as rain or melt like mountain snow Only you are here to stay, to stay