The seasons on the blade of the poem that hides our destiny
travel a journey accompanied by sounds and colors.
Christians are born to own the blood spilled on the skull,
you can hide the appearance but you are free to all that his mind,
is not a game even if it is granted.
Christians are dying, burying her face in the dust, even with the
going through a sea of \u200b\u200bindifference.
Maurizio Bianchi
Tassignano November 2, 2007
luccanews@tiscali.it
