With the sense of Victor Hugo’s,
For France, I threw out my ages,
In a rat race, no less outrageous
Than the best rat alined in the rats’ rows.
‘No more ratty rivalry! I go!’ said I,
Making sail on the streams of origins,
Marching overseas into Algiers,
Fooling myself going ahead on a try.
I was with my own demons enclosed,
Not a single life-goal having exposed.
There a zephyr came being ma muse,
Teaching me the use of pen to amuse.
I could swim across five seas and an ocean,
Just to write a letter,
Plunging my pen into the sea of inspiration.