The green river Liri surrounds her in a sinuous embrace.
It surrounds her, jealous of keeping everything for itself, that show that a generous nature wanted to give her, making her unique.
Between its coves, nestled, there is a pleasant and jovial island, thriving by day full of economic and productive life.
Today less busy, slightly lazy, but ready for new prosperous impulses.
Isola del Liri is like this: a city that has little of the city.
A town that has nothing to resemble a town.
It is not a village or a district.
It is a strip of land that comfortably nestles, watching the passage of time, always the same but also different.
The "walk" between the two bridges that outline it retains the flavour of a turtleneck never gone out of fashion.
Social events, traditions between the sacred and the profane, its history.
And the eyes of all directed there, to admire what you do not expect even if you have always known, even if you always knew it existed.
Majestic and reassuring: the waterfall.
Clear, fresh and sweet waters evoking the Petrarcan style. The veil of a bride, wanting to steal a moniker already referring to other scenarios.
But Isola doesn't need this or anything else.
There is no need to tap high-sounding adjectives, there is no need for poetic verses to give itself more prestige.
That in the end the little poem has to add to what poetry there already is.
Its waterfall, which is by no means comparable, is its and nothing else. And it dominates the territory from a perfectly vertical dip in the heart of the tiny city of Isola del Liri.
Behind it the fairytale castle. In front of it, life and its countless possibilities.
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