I feel the breath of the sea;
my skin is nourished with salt,
hear the cries of the gulls
and the breaking wave
in the undertow.
The slow and cadenced
music of a vessel that
wearily trudging towards the port,
load off of life,
scales glittering
biting the skin parched
of wild men.
Then turn my back,
towards my destiny,
between black mountains
and scraps of snow,
in the dryness and wild Corsica,
the wind in his eyes.
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