Walking widely across the planet, Cutting through the earth with callous feet, I dedicate these poems to myself - Future soul torment. Along the scrubbed deck, I'm wandering around, slipping, Like a blind sailor, I hold A course of unprecedented sailing. The waves hit my side, Casting doubts. Cuts the nose forward Despising outside opinions. There are neither cabin boys nor sailors, Shared with me This path has no forecasts, Having realized the insidious game.