Lonely lunatic, look for the golden giraffe, and try to ride it soon!
Raise clouds of dust in which the strange long neck horse
Swims and dreams the waves attracted by the moldy moon:
In mirror time, from dream descending both, of course;
You can see the green hair of the sky and the rainbow rhomb;
But, who is ready to pick the rusty thoughts of old memory?
Among the clouds we try to row above our tomb;
Following our recollections, we carve in expensive ivory.
The river of time sent us its waves of this incense emerald hour
In which we call back the summer’s amber of the fruitful word;
So, this can be seen through windows of our age tower
And again we cross through the trees and the black sword:
People of air turned to the blessed breeze of brotherhood,
Reading Thora, Bible and Koran and walking in the wood