An ocean path defines this night's dark trust;
reminds time's falsities - keeps me awake;
the brines engulf me again - same sleepless past,
with demons transferring that route's mistakes
They are my long lost pals! From dark sea depths,
they jump and dance dressed like buffoons,
and hold a violin or brass trumpet,
to celebrate around with looney tunes.
I like that group! Some theater folklore,
with drunk musicians, and chords distuned,
who awkward smile with swollen lips to yore,
in front of a half-hidden laughing moon.
I love their feast! Hoarse sounds and guitar strings,
brass horns, vociferous trombones and lyres;
my joker pals in air they jump and sing!
Inheriting their foolish laughs and tears.
One dancer though among them higher jumps
('mid pandemonium tunes - on barren delf!)
while laughingly the chorus plays paeans;
and this buffoon somehow resembles myself.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem