When the sun, catlike, lifted its transparent
Eyelid over the lake where Oiseau Roc
Was sailing, it was easy for us to make believe
This was not water before us but pure wind,
Warmed by the raspberry pie in the stove
And the story of the child you could have lost
Who clung to the lifeline cord of your song:
Sail Immo, to my arms, sail on!