ln his little boat with an old rudder,
a child sets sail with early light,
follows the waves with faithful enthusiasm,
while the wind is his sister route.
The dew shines on the coral,
dancing pearls of foam and breeze,
the seagulls sing their astral lullaby,
tracing the dawn with a precise voice.
The child dreams of fish of light,
with white sails that shine in the sun,
golden ships in a blue sky,
where secret seas bloom.
Oar in his hands, strength in his walk,
the waters tremble with his heartbeat,
the horizon invites him to dream,
with a destiny never defeated.
The nets weave promises of salt,
sirens sing distant whispers,
and in each wave of immortal rhythm,
the dreams that yesterday contracted sleep.
The sun awakens its back to the sea,
a kiss of fire that intoxicates everything,
the child feels his skin vibrate,
with the freshness that the dawn adorns.
Breeze and foam play endlessly,
they smell of newness, of hidden life,
as if the world spoke to their ear,
with its beats of infinite history.
Dreams on board, boat and love,
he carries his soul in the written water,
and while he crosses the dreaming sea,
he knows that the wind recites his faith.
