I am but a traveler of chance
in well-known lands .
In these lazzy streets
under a Prussian blue-gray
that appears on rainy days ...
Sneerer in poetic depression .
Dreamer at the pier
of the great departures ...
What remains of my shores of Atlantis ?
Tales of sunken legends ,
and the smile of a graceful siren
who spoke to dolphins ...
I,who was the king of alders ,
I am no more than the servant
of the underworld ...
My soul adrift in the limbo of Albion.
My loves that time confuses
in the wise and ageless dunes ...
Nostalgia cloacked in idleness .
Those indolent rivers dying
in the desolate delta of my cuppa...
Gallion,master of the open sea ,
will you take me back to those cliffs of Atlantis ?
Am I just this stranger to myself
in a long parodic melancholy ?
Reason has long fled me ...
Far from my engulfed sand castles
I write burlesque comedies
for lunatic Pierrots ...
I am no longer this hero .
Fool ,who thought he was a child of summer !
You are just the castaway of november ...
Sea runner ,unable to find
his straits of bearings ...
I lost my compass ,fellows,
in the chaos of storms who know
neither mercy nor compassion ...
I became this parrot ,
shattered on the reefs of poor poetry
oracle of misery ...
Abandoned by the spirits of Atlantis .