You left; I stayed in a sea of sorrows. I swallow,

sip by sip, the calix of bitterness.

In sea of roses you went; anxious I roam

in waves of grief and of sorrow.

I only see the storm!... There is not caress

of breeze there is a lot! In vain the glance search

a star or a bird for oracle.

My weeping falls in the sea all bravery.

They are my dead pleasures; almost dead,

I became gloomy here, far away from the port,

without seeing in the space the aspect of calmness.

Anchored ship... I, remain of the hecatomb,

I don't know when I will see, arriving, the dove,