EL POETA LEVA EL ANCLA

The golden anchor beckons, the blue sail rises
Like the wing of a dream unfolding to a new day.
                             Let us depart, my muse!
Beyond an anxious prow, the sea stretches itself out.

In the crystal clear East, Aurora's
Blushed beacon shines. Fantasy
Is donning a rare garment of gems
To wander brilliantly over the waves.

                             The blue sail
Unfolds its private oriflamme to Aeolus...
The supreme moment!...I tremble: do I know—
Oh God!—what awaits me in unseen worlds?

Perhaps a freshly picked bouquet of fragrant laurels,
The golden fleece, a diamond scepter,
A shipwreck, or the eternal crown of the Anointed Ones?...