If you were a shore rinsed by murmurous waves,
Mottled with mosaics of sharp stones and seaweed,
Meandering as the curly hair strand shone through by the Sun,

I would not hesitate to jump off on you,
As the whale condemned to death.

Only humans would not be clear
Of such suicidal reasons,
But do not you
And not me.

Will you call me though?