The thoughts have been climbed on the wing of the gull
in a distant trip
without standstill, without destination.
Only natural element
the sea, the sky, the red hot sun,
imagination assumes this way
you always imagine different,
you command from the rudder of the mind.

The dreams in the drawer
they are with me on the wing
in light flight toward unknown islands,
you live from the nature.

Dense palms, tangled vegetation as labyrinths,
it goes down, he/she caresses the impalpable virgin,
it sand-blasts white as snow
under the weight of plentiful tropical fruit
to course of hand without original sin.

Grazed by olive skin,
in a light embrace
how breath of the sea wind
kissed by lips coral color,
sensual, odoranti virginity.


The gull labors to take back the flight
now hedgetop,
from the wing I suggest in terrestrial extra drunkenness,
it finds other beaches,
it needs to depart and to discover.

A native strikes an arrow of the life,
it strikes the innocent bird
what it falls on the sand
in a deadly thud
of which am incredulous, terrorized accomplice
in an end ever thought.

Poetry of Diego Caviola

Islands Pontine on
Comet 50

Tuscan archipelago
Sun Odissey33

Liguria-Elba-Corsica
on First35

Liguria on First42



Croazia 02
Bavaria 44