Around a buoy on the water steers a ship in circles
On the opposite the land begins
I do not know
           The city shields her borders:
I find trees in front

The water is a plain it is a surface
We can’t go deeper even if we want to we can’t be deeper
The water stays in the bedding: nothing lays deeper
I can not be deeper

When does it flow full?

Half way the crossing I wish
the boat silent I wish:
To stay here in the middle of the water
with the others (we could
try how deep it goes?)

Half way the water shores exist on both sides
if we don’t see them we’re nowhere; the profit expires
of a latitude (but picture the longitude
and picture it’s length)