“O you who had mercy, Benign King, he that with as much adversity and misery tries the Insane, the One Eternity, that Sky. From you much workmanship we receive… It pays you what others cannot. You from how many burns received Peace, the rutting deep Sea? You, of the Winds, of Shelter, we find good.”

“In the account, diligent, of Land, Region and Climate, of the World, thus of your Old Generation, the Beginnings of the Powerful Kingdom, the Successes of the War of the Start, without knowing them I know that they are of a price. Also, the account of the long journeys, the Sea, seeing the barbarous customs of the other people that our Africa has created. Account: the golden horses, the car of the New Sun, and of the cold dawn. The wind sleeps. The sea and the waves lie. Not less the desire to hear you. Who does not know the singular Portuguese? Not in such a way shines the Sun!”