José-Maria de Heredia, the conquerors, 1893:
Like a flight of falcons out of their native nest
Weary of the burden of their proud misery,
From Palos, from Moguer, Drivers and captains set out,
Drunk with an heroic and brutal dream
They were going to conquer the fabulous metal
That Cipango ripens in its distant mines
And the Trade Winds were lowering their antennas
At the mysterious edges of the Western world.
Each evening, hoping for some epic next days
The fluorescent azure of the Tropical Seas
Charmed their sleep with a golden mirage
Where, leaning at the front of white caravels
They were watching, as coming up on an unknown sky,
New stars were arising from the bottom of the Ocean.
Now in French (more beautiful):
Les Conquerants
Comme un vol de gerfauts hors du charnier natal,
Fatigués de porter leurs misères hautaines,
De Palos de Moguer, routiers et capitaines
Partaient, ivres d'un rêve héroïque et brutal.
Ils allaient conquérir le fabuleux métal
Que Cipango mûrit dans ses mines lointaines
et les vents alizés inclinaient leurs antennes
Aux bords mystérieux du monde occidental.
Chaque soir, espérant des lendemains épiques,
L'azur phosphorescent de la mer des Tropiques
Enchantait leur sommeil d'un mirage doré;
Ou, penchés à l'avant des blanches caravelles,
Ils regardaient monter en un ciel ignoré
Du fond de l'Océan des étoiles nouvelles.