Will it be an Easter Sunday the day
When I take the boat for the last of the trips?
This Easter the moon was in high
And this Easter the stars populated the skies
And their light, white light was not weak..
Whatever be that day I shall punt on a brave face.
That face which II never so far have put
For sixty eight years…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem