Those who know me well would not say, but the dawn is the time of day that moves me more. I've seen quite a few Sometimes, the sunrise. Most of the time because I was not yet gone to sleep, more rarely, because I had to get up early to study or go to work.
I do not know whether to attribute a special meaning dawn, birth, creation, heat after the cold, the light after dark. I just know that I remain entranced by the colors, hues that come from purple to yellow, passing through the most intense reds and oranges that nature can create.
Giovanni Pascoli wrote a beautiful poem at dawn:
smell the flowers of clematis by the broom in the bed;
aliavano before dawn
swallows grove.
Aliavano
flight suits with black, agile, bat;
still groaning and the owl, which already
spincionava the chaffinch.
Among the pines was the dawn that was intended to descend down the rivers
:
flashed a beam, blowing on the trees;
Virbius ... said a swallow, and it was
day: a day of peace and work, that
'man reaped his grain, and all
in the sky came a sound sing away.
We present two dawns taken on the balcony of my house, in the period when shooting is about to change with daylight saving summer time.
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