The voices of the babies the wind picks
and then scattered among the branches and leaves
of old trees with large roots
who can hear the things you say
then tell her, down ... down ... deep
the heart that beats to the center of the world.
If a child smiles, smiles the Heart
tick here and a beautiful flower in a meadow.
If a child is happy, the heart is happy
Danzan and butterflies hiding in the wind.
But sometimes, the laughter becomes a plant:
the tears fall, hot and heavy,
colpiscon the earth trembling, frightened,
seeing death mix to life.
Ossetia, Israel, Iraq, Palestine ...
bombs and guns among the walking dead,
bringing Chechens, Afghans
and many, many African children!
bomb, shoot and talk of peace,
to the Heart of the World 'is not something like:
"If you filled with hatred and violence Earth
're not liars: call it war!
Peace is smile, shake hands,
to stay calm, look away
and basically see in the sky,
the seven colors of the rainbow.
Only if you want to spread the love
the wind and can then bring smiles
ancient trees and their roots
rumors and dreams of kids happy! "
Elio Giacone
