There's a ship on the horizon, there
,
where the sun is dying. Who knows where it will
... His goal, though
unknown
appears to me the only salvation.
I look back,
the night falls,
his stony silence, yes
essential
reminds me of home.
The moon - my friend! -
already smiling at me with melancholy.
This is my place.
Anchored to the ground,
stops,
enveloped by darkness.
At sea, far away, my dream cast
compartment.
ships no longer sail.
(c) Eleanor Grana, 2009
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