Auschwitz, poetry of a modern Don Quixote, drag the audience.
Modena, June 30, 2010 - Sold out in Modena's Piazza Grande at the concert organized to celebrate the 70th anniversary of Frank Sinatra: 5500 tickets sold, but many fans who follow him out of the barriers. Among the public square in old friends: Guido De Maria, father of Supergulp!, Franco Fini Storchi , which surprisingly does Be-bop-a-lula, Carlo Petrini, founder of Slow Food and many others.
That glance crowded Piazza Grande with his hands up to caress the words written in heaven, freedom from prejudice, freedom of thought, freedom!
Here there is neither cynical nor cowards, all ' aurora we are all ready to chase that dream of us is the life before us, grateful that time washes and leaves memories, signs .. folded pages in the book of exciting stories, phrases out, the bitter twist on the face, a crushed finger when I was a child, your rare smile.
himself those everyday exclusive: the party yesterday, up and down for porches to watch a record store, the helmet of Mambrino barber in the bowl, dish-colored nostalgia, missed : François you sing French because Italian is not enough.
We won, we lost: there is still is sanctioned in heaven or earth in a place or a place where not suffer and everything will be right, even if you can not fool yourself that flag lifts off the ground tired and worn, not There's no one, only you can do. And when
Auschwitz resonates waves on Piazza Grande, the flag of peace, consumed and unfulfilled, the dignity of a promise and a commitment that we can not drop in the mud of barbarous times. I wonder how can a man kill his brother ... still and always growing violence of the wind: they took voice, citizenship and work, but we are still here not to yield the right of a child for a job, to write words Rate of termination of its security, to oppose knowledge and belief that innovation rapacious profit but does not learn, not having to invest in the future.
runs the story without stopping, its engine is the heart of a hero on the bed everyday, burning.
One, was contemptuous of watches in the temple to say / will be destroyed / less suitable place: the old history and new choice. Escapes the Gospel to the wearer and a day will come from Cuernavaca to say: be happy at the table!
Here there is neither cynical nor cowards, all ' aurora we are all ready to chase that dream of us is the life before us, grateful that time washes and leaves memories, signs .. folded pages in the book of exciting stories, phrases out, the bitter twist on the face, a crushed finger when I was a child, your rare smile.
himself those everyday exclusive: the party yesterday, up and down for porches to watch a record store, the helmet of Mambrino barber in the bowl, dish-colored nostalgia, missed : François you sing French because Italian is not enough.
We won, we lost: there is still is sanctioned in heaven or earth in a place or a place where not suffer and everything will be right, even if you can not fool yourself that flag lifts off the ground tired and worn, not There's no one, only you can do. And when
Auschwitz resonates waves on Piazza Grande, the flag of peace, consumed and unfulfilled, the dignity of a promise and a commitment that we can not drop in the mud of barbarous times. I wonder how can a man kill his brother ... still and always growing violence of the wind: they took voice, citizenship and work, but we are still here not to yield the right of a child for a job, to write words Rate of termination of its security, to oppose knowledge and belief that innovation rapacious profit but does not learn, not having to invest in the future.
runs the story without stopping, its engine is the heart of a hero on the bed everyday, burning.
One, was contemptuous of watches in the temple to say / will be destroyed / less suitable place: the old history and new choice. Escapes the Gospel to the wearer and a day will come from Cuernavaca to say: be happy at the table!
Thanks Francis!
Thanks Guido!
Thanks Guido!
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