Essere liberi, liberi come un gabbiano…

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For one carved instant as they flew,
The language had no simile—
Silver, crystal, ivory
Were tarnished. Etched upon the horizon blue,
The frieze must go unchallenged, for the lift
And carriage of the wings would stain the drift
Of stars against a tropic indigo
Or dull the parable of snow.

Now settling one by one
Within green hollows or where curled
Crests caught the spectrum from the sun,
A thousand wings are furled.
No clay-born lilies of the world
Could blow as free
As those wild orchids of the sea.

Sea-Gulls, E. J. Pratt

Altre mie foto le pubblico sul mio, da poco aperto, account su DeviantArt (, tra l’altro ci sono anche gli scatti dei vecchi articoli del blog, per chi gradisce: buona visione, per gli altri idem.