…Le nostre estati, lo vedi,
memoria che ancora hai desideri:
in te l’arco si tende dalla marina
ma non vola la punta più al mio cuore.
Odi nel mezzo sonno l’eguale
veglia del mare e dietro quella
certe voci di festa.
E presto delusi dalla preda
gli squali che laggiù solcano il golfo
presto tra loro si faranno a brani.
Vittorio Sereni
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