They said that the sea has been in mourning
Since he sensed the blood of a martyred boy on his waves.

I heard him telling the moon that he has been living in doubt
And denying his identity ever since.

The whispers spread around the city streets,
Handing down his news.
“He shouted brutally at the sun,” they observed.
“He disapproved of her rising the next day.”
“He disapproved of the passing of the days!”

Some people on the road saw him the other day,
Creating a scarecrow out of his passion,
Scaring the gulls that landed on his surface.

He turned the rags of the martyred boy into a blanket;
Perhaps it would calm his shivering body,
Perhaps it would bring him back warmth.
He covered his body with the blanket
and confined himself to bed.…

All the people in our homeland
Are worried that the sea is in mourning,
They say that he sensed the blood of the martyred boy on his waves.

The men of the city have been spreading new gossip recently,
They say that the sea has lost a son
in this last barbaric war.…