Since I didn't know exactly what I was talking about, but only that I'd better keep it lyrical at all costs, I held on to the captain's hands and stared at an imaginary point in the cottony fog through which the Admiral Bragueton was making its way, puffing and spitting from one turn of the propeller to the next.
Zer kontatzen ari nintzen ez bainekien garbi, kosta ahala kosta estilo lirikoari eutsi behar niola baizik, kapitainaren eskuak utzi gabe beti, puntu ideal batean xedatu nuen begirada Amiral Braguetonek pafaka eta istuka helize kolpe batetik bestera aurrera egiten zuen laino beratxean.