Far from this town, a lonely boat sails, The wind caresses the waves of the sea grazing that white foam and then in the storm, Where she is, the sea is never rough, It is blue silk where the sun arises in dawn And the day that now lives in us becomes, in us. Slowly a fisherman comes near me, he gives me pages of poetries: “Bring them with you, in your life, but leave me a memory, a word and go towards the sun that is setting for me and is waiting for you to go away”. While in a thick fog he hides himself, and in the distance a boat goes away, he goes away.