Copenhagen bathes in a tub of pale water,
Hamlet tears the ivory sheet of the night,
Existence is an unshakeable reef,
And our hearts are shipwrecked on ideal stones
Traveller, this palace of words does not exist,
And yet here is the dreamy key
I threw in hundred incandescent lakes
The reflection of Heracles and that of the sun
Love is an unjustifiable caprice,
And the winds have usurped the beauty of the past
The night illuminates bright scuba divers
The desert of Nevada blueens the face of a man
Kierkegaard hands us a torch of fire