When on the wave the breeze soft kisses flings,
I rouse my fearful heart and long to be
Floating at leisure on the tranquil sea;
But when the hoary ocean loudly rings,
Arches his foamy back and spooming swings
Wave upon wave, his angry swell I flee.
Then welcome land and sylvan shade to me,
Where, if a gale blows, still the pine-tree sings.
Hard is his life whose nets the ocean sweep,
A bark his house- shy fish his slippery prey;
But sweet to me the unsuspicious sleep
Beneath a leafy plane- the fountain's play,
That babbles idly, or whose tones if deep
Delight the rural ear and not affray.
translated by M. J. Chapman
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem