I live wide awake with an eye
That like a periscope it travels stealthily
The stele of the waters of past
And it makes me see again the ships that I lost.
All men are diluted while they sprout
As an absurd tree that grows down,
The love of rain hardly touches it
The language of wind rarely speaks to him.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem