Besieging the circle of an above-ground fort for its light
The cold, sharp wave storms the lighthouse
Robust turret of stones in the middle of nowhere
Off La Rochelle or Le Finistère

And she, agitated, is indeed seavage!

Quietly approaching the canoe on sand
Hope of coconuts, hammocks in palm trees
This tropical land would come from a fable
Mix of lava and water, the Piton has risen!

And she, struck, flies in white vapors!

Reducing the life of country smugglers
She is often tombs of ill-fated Ulysses
How far away she seems, then, the boot of Italy,
For those who have left everything, dreaming of being born there!

And this crossing does not offer a visa!

Stifling pitifully under floating *******
The gray sea without corals is emptied of its life
Only the abyssal fish do not see how
On the surface, belugas find the time long!

And she, once a sanctuary, became compost!

Inspiring, from the foam, the writings of the poet,
Sea, Ocean Blue, Aegean and beautiful Seychelles,
Because without it, our life would have been so thin
In our inner worlds, its flow always calls back!

And she, stained, becomes crystalline again!

See in these painting our vital element
Exhausted, neglected by our great laziness
For it to be paradise and not only distress
Let's save the coastline, fragile like an opal!

Translated on November 2019
Nancy