Somewhere beneath
the white-crested sea
cute, cuddly creatures,
splendent in their glossy
black 'n white attire, move
seamlessly through faintly
sun-lit depths; a scene
marked by an iridescent,
murky, blue-gray light—
cold, austere, yet pristine.
Be it notions of fun
or fret, frolic or fear,
or perhaps motives
less obvious or clear,
they move in aerial
terms: of graceful
zooms and swoops,
climbs and dives and
precision vertical loops.
Filled of fish and fun,
they return to ice and
snow under distant sun,
and craggy, rocky shore
and the waiting, as before;
veiled by stealth below,
born not friend, but foe,
the ever-present predator.
As if on cue, the fearless,
the frantic and the fearful
dash to the finish line and
the safety it will provide;
as sadly, a mass of red
breaks surface, signaling
another chase at end—as
victor and victim collide.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem