James has become one with the clouds,
As the waves with their mist.
In Heaven’s starry river, his sails now dance.
As if dreaming, James has returned
To the place where our God lives,
And now hears the voices of soaring birds.
Where is he going?
The road is long and we cannot know,
His sun has set upon this earth.
It is hard to find words to continue his story,
And know his destination among the winds.
Oh wind, do not stop…
His little boat of tender wood
Has not yet reached the immortal island.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem