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If I could capture between my fingers the sighs of the sea and share them with children If I could caress with my fingers the waves’ gentle breeze and feel the hair of children If I could feel between my fingers the kiss of the foam and hear the laughter of children If I could touch with my fingers the sleep of the sea and coax to slumber the eyes of children If I could take between my fingers pretty little shells and make of them necklaces for children Oh, sea of mine! why do you wait? why don’t you give? why don’t you feel? why don’t you hear? Immersed in my thoughts I was suddenly shaken From the sea, my sea, out of the bellies of ships tremors came I looked at the erupting sky the sighs of the sea were cries of agony the gentle breeze the smell of dust and blood the kiss of the foam the death-rattle the sea’s slumber the pebbles of the gravestone and the pretty shells traced the destiny of the Homeland!