It may seem like a legend, a fairy tale from
other epochs brought to the world from the voices of travelers.
It makes you think about the impossibility of ever finding again a place
that cradled a myth so far away and singular. However, the
Mediterranean sea, the sea of our life, has become sweeter and benign
so domestic and gathered as a lake is, a small coastal territory that
has kept alive a secret for many centuries: it's here that poetry has
found its horizon and its home. Between the pinkish shadows of its
hamlets, in the bland movement of its hills, beyond the very deep blue
of its sea, this discreet land reveals with your footsteps the
miraculous dream of Shelley, Petrarca and Montale, the mystery of the
perfect harmony of a unison song between man and his sea, his land.
This is the Gulf of the Poets, the Gulf of La Spezia.
A unique microcosm, so close to the usual tourist route, but so far from the
common places. Whoever crosses its borders of steep cliffs and high
pine groves, knows that he's beginning a voyage of astonishment and
wonder, even after so many centuries, scenery that still penetrates
one's gaze until it mingles with the soul of the one walking it.
