Phantasm of the rolling moor
Identify your lifeless hue,
And tell us what you were before,
For mortal men have not a clue.
Your human ship I do suppose
Was wrecked upon that emerald sea,
And now your soul forever flows
With spiritual uncertainty.
But whatsoever unreal beast
You are to claim this verdant field,
Your cowled figure once at least
Has frightened men when so revealed.
Such tales abound when travellers meet
And mingle with the native folk,
For well they know upon that peat,
You haunt, you reign, you are Grey Cloak.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem