«...The snow will come light as goose feather, dwelling first on trees, then filtering among the branches by placing on frozen cortinarius, cranberry shrubs, moss as sugar veil on the cake. Hares, roe deers, deers will be immobile looking at the new landscape. Foxes inside the den will put out their nose to smell the new and old odour that comes back. But when everything will be white, will the squirrels remember where they hid their supplies? The old capercaillie of Scoglio del Tasso will fly on the abode where generations of its family waited for the spring feeding with those leaves. The woods will be immersed in an unreal time and I will walk in it as in a dream. Many things will appear clear in that light that is born of itself.
The dear wren will come on the woodcock to announce the first snow as I was a boy with its tictictic repeated several times, and its little bell hidden in the throat will also be heard up there where the compact and white clouds wait for the signal.»
(Mario Rigoni Stern Inverni lontani, Giulio Einaudi editore, Torino, 1999)