He hoists his ragged sail
And beholds an unequal grace
He knows not whether he’ll prevail
In this silvery, glowing place
Comprised of beauty and terror,
He sets a course for the unknown
Perhaps his gravest error,
He’ll wear through any cyclone
He peers into the abyss,
It’s moniker: the deep blue
And through all fear, he persists
With this dangerous pas de deux
He drifts upon the moonlit sea,
Reflecting an ethereal sky
The remains of his ship, scattered debris
He floats away with the tide.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem