Many a furlong from the restful land
Sea-swept and overthrown, now lies the bark
The waves of sin, the night of worldly dark
Assault my faithless soul, divest my sand
I cede to chaos, fall to Death’s command
My woe attains extremes, my sorrow stark
When, like a ghost, Oh “Everlasting Mark”
You come to me walking upon the strand
I scream in fear… “'Tis I…”, with heart remanned
And at your bidding I but disembark
And in my indecision I remark
The tide of care, I start to sink, your hand
Delivers me with rightful reprimand
You come into my heart, you still my cark…
Beirut
August 24th 1997
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem