Over looking the fisher is the creamy snow of the mountains
He stood with narrowed eyes Discarding his magical tools overboard.
The wind is loud if the pine trees,
It wants to make itself heard. It is as greedy as us mortals And unconcerned by the loud shrieks of the duckling Who looks for his mother, Who plucks the tubes from the soft sandy ground.
The eggshells lay bare under the tree,
Each piece like a piece of my heart. The tree, my darling, that many have sat under, Enjoying picnics and luncheons While the shallow water relentlessly beats Against the stone.
The man on the sails sails like the Men of Ancient Greece.
This sea interlocked between the mountains Is the same water Sailed by the great men of the Antiquity.
Go on your odyssey darling.
Tell me, do you dare? Cross these ancient glaciers of our fathers And these lush mountains where I have buried my heart.