An Octet… Upon Arriving in His Home, in the Town of Dieppe, Hungry

Whoever wishes to go to Florida,

Let him go where I have been,

And return dry and arid,

And worn out by rot.

For the only good I have brought back—

A single silvery stick in my hand.

But I am safe, not defeated:

It’s time to eat; I die of hunger.

-Nicholas Le Challeux, trans. Maurice O’Sullivan. Written in 1565, it is the earliest known poem about America written by a European. found here