A dove, symbol of peace, leaving the nest to "take a sip of light", when a shot, suddenly, the wounds. The hunter came running happy to collect the booty. The poet, in assisting the event, is dismayed. The smell of the air, tasted in the spring evening, gives way to autumn in his heart, the sadness. There are many wounds that man can inflict: the nature, to his fellow men, to himself. Violence may be everywhere, but above all it is ignorance in not knowing what is bad. Fortunately, in the heart of man is also home to the sense of peace and justice. For this reason, poetry is the bearer of values.

Agostina Spagnuolo