Fought by the rich, a sailor has a ship
So awkward that he is richer than the clip.
A father mastered his flag much like a master,
The mast of a ship is like that of an abandoner.
Fought by some the sea is a place of sequences,
The waves undulate like curtains and offences.
The walls of a ship work like oars and paddles,
Then shapes and squares appear with angles.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem