Let a Rondeau be the Sea's Ode,
Always returning to the same shore,
Where waves clap hands in self-approval
It is their curtain call, no more
After a long stroll across the stage
With the rise and fall of fame
Briefly washing the sand's page
And sliding back to absence.
Let the rondeau be the Sea's Ode,
And ours too, relapsing into silence,
And the flat calm of the all knowing.
Fine wit and extended metaphor to describe the sea, and the human condition. Striking imagery.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Rondeau of the sea, waves come and go, poet imagining it Where waves clap hands in self-approval A wonderful description.