I will leave this land, soon
become a lonely whale, oceans gipsy wears nothing but Algae;
knows nothing but singing, dancing, jumping in the air, with that acrobatic moves,
thinking that he finally found it, happiness;
and once he dives into the deepest caves,
he sees, there, in the darkest points of the cosmos,
the oldest primitive drawings of dreariness.
there is nothing in all these oceans, more than what was on all that land;
but it’s just liquid and deepest.
terrified, he rushes to the nearest land,
gets stuck on it,
to die there,
before anyone could be able to bring him back to the water,
lying down, with the ends of waves’ fingers, tickling his body,
without reaching his breathing,
drowns suffocating by air.
Whale is a god in grief, a god in suicide;
the last messenger of nothingness.