Stefano Capasso
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,DOLOMITES,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
Among the high mountains
of the
Dolomites
the snow
still shines
and lets
know:
There are
still
Up there'
a wind,
impertinent
he has fun
to throw
high
of snow, white whirlpools,
like a brat.
They stand
up
to touch the
sky
his hands,
to thank God
who welcomes,
of his work,
and he is
happy about it.
Those high
mountains
they seem to invite
the gaze of
the people
to turn towards the Beautiful,
when
oppressed
from
melancholic burdens,
he feels
them stuck on him
like cloaks.
And when
the tired
sun goes away,
up there in
the mountains,
from the
dark, covered
still you
can listen
fierce sighs.
It's the
chatter
of rivers,
streams
and then of
birds,
still awake,
that don't
stop
to talk to
each other
while the
moon
aside, he
watches.
All rights
reserved
copyright @
Author:
Stefano Capasso
Photos and
Images
from the WEB
