Friend, ... it's your kiss that sings like a bell in the water of the submerged cathedral, through whose windows entered eyeless fish, dissolute seaweed...

All I ask the gods to grant me is that
I ask them for nothing.
Good luck is a yoke and to be happy oppresses,
For it's an emotional state.
I want to raise my not easy nor uneasy,
Purely calm being above the plane
Where men rejoice or grieve...