Another nocturnal contemplation in which the landscape becomes an inner revelation. From the first verse, the self positions itself “at the bottom of the valley,” a symbolic place of recollection and humility, from where it observes an elevated and “sumptuous” form that stands out against the “black horizon.” This vertical movement—from the valley to the hill—structures the entire poem and translates a yearning for elevation, not necessarily physical, but spiritual and existential.

The hill located “to the west” carries a particular symbolism: the west is the place of sunset, of the transition between light and shadow, life and silence. In this liminal space, “imaginary walls” rise, suggesting that the fortress is not material, but built by perception and desire. The castle does not exist as stone, but as a vision—an architecture of the spirit silhouetted against the starry night.

The image of the “phantom fortress” and the “bulwark” reinforces this ambiguity between presence and absence. It is a place of defense, shelter, and resistance, but also ethereal, intangible. The poetic self recognizes itself in this illusory space by stating “here I dream awake”: wakefulness blends with dreaming, and objective reality dissolves into an experience of active imagination, where meaning is born more from intuition than from reason.

The sounds of the night, far from being peaceful, “mingle with revolt.” The soundscape reveals an inner tension that finds in nocturnal contemplation a form of reorganization. It is in this contact with the night that “the strength is back,” indicating that the vision of the castle—albeit ghostly—functions as a catalyst for inner renewal and an impulse to “follow my path.”

In the final part of the poem, nature definitively assumes the role of symbolic architecture. The oak trees, described as “sleeping giants,” rise like living columns that outline the silhouette of the castle. The fortress ceases to be imaginary and merges with the landscape itself: a “castle of trees” that “lies upon the moonlight.” This final image dissolves the separation between human construction and the natural world, suggesting a primordial harmony in which strength, protection, and permanence do not come from stone, but from life itself.

The poem, therefore, proposes a redefinition of shelter and resistance. The castle is not a place to be conquered, but a vision to be recognized; it is not outside, but is born from the encounter between gaze, night, and landscape. By contemplating it, the poetic self rediscovers direction and energy, affirming that imagination—when rooted in nature and silence—can become a true inner fortress.

From the bottom of the valley I glimpse
its sumptuous form
cutting out the black horizon
of this starry night

at the top of the hill
located to the west
the walls
imaginary

a phantom fortress
a bulwark
a silhouette against the darkness
here I dream awake

the sounds of the night
mingle with the revolt
the force is back
to follow my path

on the western slopes
towards you
the oaks, sleeping giants
sumptuously outline your silhouette

the castle of trees lies under the moonlight