From “The Spire”, William Golding
So he sat, watching the armies of sparks that wandered through the fire. He spoke sometimes, but not to Father Adam. ‘Yet it still stands.’ Then he moaned and rocked…
Poca favilla gran fiamma seconda
So he sat, watching the armies of sparks that wandered through the fire. He spoke sometimes, but not to Father Adam. ‘Yet it still stands.’ Then he moaned and rocked…