Sul balcone mi
            Godo i primi squilli di
            Estivi voli.
 

                                                            S'addensa luce
                                                            Accecato barbaglio
                                                            Del cuore.
 

                                                                                                                Pioggia estiva
                                                                                                                Si rinnova il cuore
                                                                                                                Acceso frinìo.
 
 

            Nella sera va
            Il canto acuto e della
            Luna il corso.
 

                                                            Echi nella sera
                                                            Rincorrono malie
                                                            D'un canto ondoso.
 
 

                                                                                                                Respiro il cielo
                                                                                                                A pieni polmoni
                                                                                                                Notte d'estate.
 
 

            Luna bianca
            Limìo di cicale
            Vagare insonne.
 
 

                                                            Un melograno
                                                            Della terra perduta
                                                            Vago richiamo.
 
 

                                                                                                                Villa Pamphili
                                                                                                                Sotto i suoi alti pini
                                                                                                                Pigro sostare
 
 

            Restiamo al sole
            Io ed il verde ramarro
            Dopo la pioggia.
 
 

                                                        Alto nel cielo
                                                        Svetta il nuovo palazzo
                                                        Vecchie le idee.
 

                                                                                                                 Sotto il salice
                                                                                                                 Dopo tanto cercare
                                                                                                                 In pace rimango.
 
 

            Biancheggia luna
            Ed il canto dei grilli
            Riempie la stanza.
 

                                                        Alla mia età
                                                        Padre, eri già morto
                                                        Notte di luglio.
 

                                                                                                                Come lontano
                                                                                                                E' il tuo ricordo, e
                                                                                                                La mia gioventù.
 
 

            Naufrago, alla
            Riva ormai lontana
            Getto lo sguardo.
 

                                                        Notte d'estate
                                                        Fluiscono i pensieri
                                                        All'unisono.
 

                                                                                                                Ostinata la
                                                                                                                Bianca primula ancora
                                                                                                                Dischiude fiori.
 
 

            Monotono è
            Il canto dell'upupa
            E tu mi manchi.
 

                                                        File nere di
                                                        Formiche rincorrono
                                                        Sogni perduti.
 

                                                                                                                Alto il papiro
                                                                                                                Protende le nuove
                                                                                                                Foglie, estate.
 
 

            Dal promontorio
            Volteggiano i gabbiani
            Lievi pensieri.
 
 

                                                        Ebbro, aspiro
                                                        Questa piena di luce
                                                        Barbaglio d'oro.
 
 

                                                                                                                La sera reca
                                                                                                                Come una eco lontana
                                                                                                                Il tuo ricordo.
 
 

            Urlo d'angoscia
            Di un cielo rabbioso
            Gabbiani in volo.
 

                                                        Assorto ascolto
                                                        Lo sciabordio del mare
                                                        Immutabile.
 

                                                                                                                Risuona ancora
                                                                                                                Nelle strette stradine
                                                                                                                Qualche antica eco.
 
 

            Solo percorro
            Calli notturne, con me
            Voci perdute.
 

                                                        Notte profonda
                                                        Pensieri rincorrono
                                                        Eco lontane.
 

                                                                                                                Dilata il sole
                                                                                                                Lo straziato rubino
                                                                                                                Tutto smemora.
 
 

            Il sole filtra
            Liquido nella stanza
            Dolce risveglio.
 

                                                        Tesse leggero
                                                        Ragnetto instancabile
                                                        Fili argentini.
 

                                                                                                                Giocano insieme
                                                                                                                Il micio e la farfalla
                                                                                                                Sogni estivi.
 
 

            Nella fonda ala
            Dei tuoi occhi neri
            Chiuso baratro.
 
 

                                                        Eco lontane
                                                        Riporta la musica
                                                        Sogni perduti.

                                                                                                                In vana attesa
                                                                                                                Noia domenicale
                                                                                                                Lenta trascorre.
 
 

            Cullano le onde
            I sogni del passato
            Liquido azzurro.
 
 

                                                        Non c'è nessuno
                                                        Delle cicale il canto
                                                        Chiuso frinìo.
 

                                                                                                                Nero granchietto
                                                                                                                Invano fuggi l'onda
                                                                                                                Che ti ricopre.
 
 

            Amor di giustizia
            Ambedue, e sincero
            Perchè litigare.
 

                                                        Al Cineporto
                                                        Le luci sui pini
                                                        Psichedeliche.