Honour the translator,
survivor of cadence:

struck by lightning,
he lives to tell the tale.

Rudderless, no mast:
he steers the boat of tomorrow

across a sea that has no walls.
Dip a seine in its water, you cannot hold

the water. By what name
shall we call its cresting blues?

By what name
shall we haul it in?

Strophe upon strophe
they strike us, the waves.