The glare of the morning sun thus shone,
upon the everlasting welkin of the brine.
And as the billows brush upon the shale,
the waves swayed such a gushing sound.
A strayed gannet can be seen from afar,
hovering above me amongst the shine.
It seeks to roost for the nonce so easily,
upon a bough within a sinuous mound.
Within the soothing firth I have left behind,
all the toilsome traces of my once wrath.
I have waded through these bustling waters,
with my sully feet and left my footprints.
And I would find myself all alone and anew,
treading within my seemingly endless path.
I can feel nearby the Lord’s light glimmer,
upon my eyes as it then afterwards glints.
I have found therefore my healing amidst,
the Wuthering Winds that blow on my blee.
And among this heavenly place I can hear,
the trumpets of heaven sound with might.
The horns of the cherubs blare so lissom,
as they chime musical notes of glee.
It is a wondrous sight of descent of halos,
shinning hitherto so bright and upright.
And I close my eyes and let them take me,
beyond the waters that lie before me.
Thereafter the horns blare upon the earth,
within the brine a lofty and mighty roar.
I shall beseech what must behove as my soul,
will roam upon the clouds that I can now see.
The billows swell upon the shoreline among,
the blustery winds of their wings as they soar.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem