The Islands of Aran Seen from the Moher Cliffs Poem by Harold Pinter

The three whales of Aran
Humped in the sun's teeth,
Make tough bargain with the cuff
And statement Of the sea.

I stand on Moher, the cliffs
Like coalvaults, see Aran
In mourning thumped to losses
By its season's neighbour.

Aran like three black whales
Humped on the water,
With a whale's barricade
Stares out the waves.

Aran with its bleak gates locked,
Its back to the traders,
Aran the widower,
Aran with no legs

Distended in distance
From the stone of Connemara's head,
Aran without gain, pebbled
In the fussing Atlantic.