We travel with beautyFilled with thoughts.Does every caress awaken dreams?!...
The warm lap of every Ithaca,Does not belong to disappointment, painLonging and momentary temptationWhen it betrays!Inside the abandonment of your conscience, IthacaAnd outside our parameters, you,... still...Refine them.
The rock!...Is not frightened by the madnessOf the wave,It crumbles!It calms life when it licks its feetAnd caresses them.
Psychoanalysis of generations,...To philosophy,An echelonCannot remain a shieldIt breaks,...Against the continuity of madness.
Our entirety crashes, Ithaca, and risesAbove every moment of magic, of the universe.Transformation and dissolution, an exchange of matterOr the opposition of a searching soul?!...
This, I do not entrust to the sophismsThat try to endure,...To eternity over your parkAnd to glory, oh motherhood of the depths.Inside our visions,... it awakens,...The spaces, of perfection!
