To the rhythm of the waves you recreate yourself
Inspiring you with that stern wind
No fixed destination at the tide
And with illusions above your board.
Woven cages and nets, made of sweat
Tireless fishermen full of work
Fishing gear that is ported
And they get a good catch.
Sea caressed by your wood keels
With binnacles that are reflected in the compass
And although sometimes the tide is not serene
In the evenings you are guided by stars.
Imaginary lines that indicate your direction
And they leave frothy stelae marked
So the wind makes you give a lot of movement
Take advantage to lift your big candles.
I know that the sea is your greatest gift
But by lighthouses on the coast you are illuminated
To get to rest in a subtle beached
And thus indicate that the task was completed.
