The selection of the poems, the epilogue and the translation into Italian have been carried out by Paola Laskaris, a professor at the University of Bari and a scholar of classical and contemporary Spanish poetry. The book opens with a prologue entitled “De cuando se oían las sirenas” by the philosopher and poet Chantal Maillard.

The edition includes a series of twenty-five photographs of the area of the Baños del Carmen (the mythical Spa of Málaga, fragile and symbolic) taken by the author over several months of 2011 and accompanied by verses from the anthology itself that illustrate a poetic dialogue between the different spaces and times of the Mediterranean and support the reflection on its ruins and realities. José Abolafio has been responsible for the design and layout.
This careful edition is the latest publication of Fundación Málaga and has the collaboration of Asociación Dante Alighieri en Málaga.

Professor Laskaris’ selection brings us closer to the dry landscapes of Cabo de Gata and Abdera, to the enigma of a Syrian prehistoric goddess, to a Roman siesta, to a reflection on old age with a taste of Campari or Alhambra beer, to the terral that upsets us, to a sponge-producing island, to a coastal casino, to the cold nights of Athens and Eleusis, to a terrace, to another epicurean siesta, to some cliffs, to Carthage, to a city with customs and palm trees, to an American warship, to an horizon contemplated by a gabviera…

Why have we chosen the title “Los limones absortos” for this collection of poems? We were inspired by the Italian poet Eugenio Montale, who in his poem “Los limones” spoke of the smell of these fruits as the part of wealth that touched the poor. A few lemons interviewed in a winter courtyard through an open gate announce, the poet says, the melting of the heart and pour the songs of the sun into our hearts. We understood that the wealth of which Montale spoke is the very wealth of poetry:

«junto a este mar común, nuestro tesoro secreto quizá consista en el hedonismo austero, en la lentitud, en el olor de los limones absortos, en las trompetas de oro de la solaridad. El Mediterráneo es un lugar anciano y elocuente, lleno de náufragos, de ambiciosos, de gavieras, de refugiados, de nadadoras, de soñadores; es un mar saturado de voces. Pero, como dice Chantal Maillard, ese lenguaje heredado está perdiendo su capacidad de significar, y ante el universo que se desploma, es preciso construir la historia de otro modo, urdir de nuevo el cuento: “Y sí. Es preciso descreer. Desengañarse”. Recuperar el canto no sometido, no encallecido ni saqueado de las sirenas. Ese canto que habíamos dejado de querer escuchar».