I found this little plaque on a chair along Burnham-on-Sea seafront on Friday morning as I sat waiting for traffic to die down, so I could have a clear run home and avoid the school-run and rush hour.



So here is Google translate version: 

... between This immensity my pensioner drowns And my shipwreck is sweet, in this sea.

Clearly, this is poor. Hey-Ho I wasn't expecting much. Below is a link to the Wikipedia article that contains three translations.

The Infinity by Giacomo Leopardi

And here is my favourite translation.

This lonely hill was always dear to me,
and this hedgerow, which cuts off the view
of so much of the last horizon.
But sitting here and gazing, I can see
beyond, in my mind’s eye, unending spaces,
and superhuman silences, and depthless calm,
till what I feel
is almost fear. And when I hear
the wind stir in these branches, I begin
comparing that endless stillness with this noise:
and the eternal comes to mind,
and the dead seasons, and the present
living one, and how it sounds.
So my mind sinks in this immensity:
and foundering is sweet in such a sea.

When I saw the plaque facing straight out to sea, the horizon, the hills of Wales to the north and the Quantock's and Exmoor to the south I knew it would reference life and death, and loss and the unknown and obviously the expanse of the sea. I knew it would be something I get and feel exactly as written.

Never underestimate or dismiss poetry, there is always something to discover. And the thing most often discovered, is that people have been feeling the same things, about places and events and the tides of life for centuries. We have a common thread running through time. That commonality down generations and spanning continents, and cultures allows you to empathise across time, and in that empathy comes a greater understanding of the human condition. 

You are not alone in your travails, and everything you can experience has been experienced by someone else, somewhen else, somewhere else.