Ropes curled, neatly inside
The disenchanted serpents of your skiff
Floating away in the silence of a deserted pier
The town shrunk to museum size
Then blurred impasto
Destined to memories and
The traveling theatre of your dreams
You navigate on seas now calm then rough
Counseled by ghosts and gods
Against pirates jealous of your light purse
Guided by the stars
Confused by the clouds
Siphoned by currents
You reach
A new port, outside your map
Charming you with strange music
To set foot on dry land
Behind you the horizon
Absorbed your history and silenced the voices of the past
So far away now
That you take a new name.
Bibi Tiphane 