They built the ship with much material that was to compose,
This slight manoeuvre headed for the lights of dignity.
Inside is a shrill of hard looting, composing the lines of very
Smooth prose, so prosaic that dilemmas dissolve.
My ship sailed a wonderful distance, dizzying the daylight
Hours like the morose bird, that calls from a faraway place.
This place was built and promised, like the subjugated,
Like the carried bags of misfortune, and the hairy man.
This ship still kept still, asking for the owner to enlighten the crown.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem