Bhem children, but I
in a day so full of hot, in a day as Sunday, so festive air, with the large butterflies of the month of June that pirouettes in the air ... no, but I say, in such a day, which I just finished watching the machines that run and then run the bike ... now, at this here, ranging from five to sunset, with this light, full of moisture. ..
Bhem children
but I do I do? Ah, I know what I do ... I am doing something that in two hours I was free, a good thing invented on time, fast, easy to do that then there's the game tonight ... and you know that all Italians watched the game, now I know we lost the first game but did not know, these are things that happen .. . ... sin will be for another time. So no, I do that take up my new bike, a beautiful new bike color 'white sky', a beautiful color that s'abbina all ... then I go up there riding my bike, riding a soft, well done fully fledged, that when I am there on my bike I seem to be in the chair.
Bhem children
but the beauty of the roads of Emilia Romagna to five on a Sunday afternoon, these streets are lost in the countryside and in the hill and then you make smaller and smaller as a van on ... Beauty worse than blistering heat, it takes your breath away in a ruthless way, that not even the bad guys can do more than warm. And you stand there gasping in this sea of \u200b\u200bwheat, with your bike color 'blue white', your water bottle color 'blue white' ...
're there, peaceful and happy, in this way that there is even a free car ... you look around, there are none, large crickets, cicadas great, but even a Christian. Then all other Christians are at sea, to seek the cool, they say. All are people who come down from Bologna, Modena, in this city without the sea ... a mess, a thick, a sound all there ... stesi, pigiati a pigliare il sole...uno stress, un’agitazione...
C’è anche il bagno dei surfisti, per dire. Che se tè sei un surfista emiliano-romagnolo vai lì in ‘sto bagno e non ti senti più solo. Non ti senti più un’anima persa. Ah, io me lo sono sempre chiesto cosa fanno i surfisti emiliano-romagnoli in questo mare che, quando butta bene, ha delle onde di venti centimetri. Allora mi vien da pensare che si racconteranno le loro avventure nei mari di tutto il mondo, poi, una volta stanchi di parlare, con le loro tavole sotto il braccio, il vento nei capelli e il sole sugli occhi...scenderanno sul bagnasciuga ad aspettare le onde grosse.
Solo che non vengono mai queste onde grosse, e loro stan lì, to age, waiting for the Great Wave. Anxiety, agitation for the big wave that never comes ... This bath for surfers as the Desert of the Tartars, a tear, a wait that never ends ... eh, but it's not possible, I I hope that is very nearly a tsunami in the Adriatic, on Wednesday, perhaps, to give surfers the Emilia-Romagna Wednesday from their lions.
Bhem children
now I'm almost at the end of the tour, I'm looking at the gardens of the lord of Romagna, all beautiful, ordered, with plaster figurines of all white, white ... these beautiful gardens, a silence, a perfume . We are here in the garden of the gentlemen who have put two boxes of bees, so to speak, so the morning always have fresh honey. A vision these guys Romagna, a sparingly.
These beautiful cottages, a real nice, not a beautifully restored ... these wonderful houses of a beautiful old, not a nice fake antique ... with these enormous tables, laden shade of a poplar a poplar huge, leafy, shady as hell, and below is a good, a fresh ... Madonna, it seems to be on the set of a Fellini film ... I almost stopped me. And the best part is that if I stop dan me to drink, eat, eating and drinking my fans ... I sleep in the shade of poplar, which is then from there I do not feel like getting up.
I stop right here, in this beautiful town in the shadow of his rival, who sleeps in this town this Sunday in June, with a name like that you call the beautiful village of San Marco. A beautiful town of Romagna with the name of a saint, a great holy evangelist, who also had three friends, three friends evangelists too. And in this beautiful village where the river passes through, on this Sunday of June, I fill the bottle 'white sky' and I rinse my face sweat. This beautiful fountain, a gleam ... know ... the old fountain have put in the shade here in the middle ... surrounded by trees, plants ... this fountain of the village of San Marco, who seems almost a baptismal font, which you could also baptize infants, so to speak. I am a well here. A disappointment, a shame that there is here Pascoli, who with his sensitivity, faced with this quiet Sunday in late June, in front of a fountain as well, with your feet in this fragrant greenery ... who knows that poetry he pulled out grazing. I always cry when I read the filly transfer, to say. Even now, at this age. I'll be sensitive soul, will be by bicycle, all these images that pass before me, boh, who knows.
Bhem children
now I will put below the face of a cyclist Romagna suffering, anxiety and agitation that has the surfer's Emilia-Romagna region of their orphaned lions on Wednesday. So now ho visto anche la faccia di Baol...e insomma, un abbraccio a lui e uno per uno a tutti voi. Senza litigare, eh.
Che poi, a vederla qui, sembra di un intenso sta foto, di un ricercato...e, invece, è solo frutto di un grande male alla pancia. Davvero eh. Per dire...a volte...le cose. E allora tanto che son qui, un abbraccio lo darei ad una amica che ogni tanto ha male alla pancia, proprio come questo ciclista romagnolo nella foto. E quando il male alla pancia passa, quest’amica, fa delle foto bellissime con una macchina nuova bellissima.
Ma, senza che nessuno se ne abbia a male, l’abbraccio più grande è per la signorina H. La signorina H. è una Miss that you can not want that good. Has problems with Sunday. Even those of June.
