Kennst du das Land, wo die Zitronen blehn, Im dunkeln Laub die Goldorangen glehn, Ein sanfter Wind vom blauen Himmel weht,
Die Myrte still und hoch der Lorbeer steht? Kennst du es wohl? Dahin! Dahin macht' ich mit dir,
O mein Geliebter, ziehn.
Do you know the land where the lemons
are in flower?
In the green leaves golden oranges shine
A quiet wind blows from the blue sky
Quiet is the myrtle, serene the laurel
Do you know it well?
There, there
I would like with you, my love, to go!
J.W. Goethe
The intense light, the sun dancing on the crests of the lake and the radiant
sunsets arouse unique and unrepeatable sensations.
Lights and shadows define the imposing masses of the steep slopes that rise
almost menacingly above the deep, inaccessible gorges of Mount Baldo, the
ancient testimony of chaotic and devastating cataclysms that shaped a rough
and difficult environment, in stark contrast with the small inhabited area,
the fruit of landslides that the Mediterranean climate and the slow work of
nature and man have softened, with hillsides rich with olives, cypress trees
and oleanders.
Many gardens still host lemon trees laden with fragrant flowers and golden
fruits, which stand out among the intensely green fronds, the remains of
more ancient and vaster lemon-houses, which time and urban expansion have
irretrievably cancelled.
