Looking towards the horizon where the sky with
sea confused;
is all calm es'ode the surf, the laughter of
foamy waves.
distant sails swollen with wind
criss-cross the water proud and elegant;
leaving the fishermen and go off on boats and light
beccheggianti.
powerful and silent above the waves
stand out, stern guards,
the stacks from the dark stone,
overflown by white seagulls.
benches seaweed near the shore here
offer swaying in the sun dances,
give shelter to fish and urchins,
lives in the air leaving fragrances.
It 's a picture, a melodic poetry,
that I never get tired of taste;
a miracle which only Nature
mysterious power, knows how to operate.
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