Melancholic and sad, the lyric is full of metaphors sweetened from the flavour of the memories, from nostalgia of things gone, lost in the oblivion of the time. Search of ancient roots that resound vague like gust of wind or sand fists, thoughts heated from a sun indifferent to advanced baldness. Bitter resignation to slow vanish of an existence fatuos that it leaves in inheritance the flimsiness of the dreams.
Between stony ground, nostalgia and regretted, the poet consumes its existence in the conviction that by now is not more possible to recover the thread in the maze of its time and it lets to die dictating its testament. He emerges, beyond the lines, the love for its earth of which he shares the destiny, of its people by now reduced in shadows, of the flavours and secrets that only the true poet knows to pick.

Franca Molinaro