Refulgent as the stars in the winter sky
The wild hopes rise with the waves
A tumultuous high;
Deceit can never be a part of this fight;
The hair on my head electrified,
Each one alive medusa-like,
The sepulchre of pride:
This sternum to no avail,
Pride in my pride?
The territory, the bastion of this life’
This is the only one left,
This is the only one left’
To fight, this mind, this thought, this life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem