Stood high above the ragged sea
Beautiful as the day,
How melancholy she can be,
The Phantom of Westbrook Bay.
Her heart’s become an empty shell,
Her eyes are loveless flames,
Tormented in her personal hell,
Until she screams again.
By the bay where she grew up
A cove awaits her fate,
She used to drink from silver cups,
And eat from golden plates.
Once clad in beautifully blazing white,
Her hair trailed the ground,
Now that she has lost her knight.
Her grave remains unfound.
In a little cave that’s hidden away,
Is where she found her love,
While gathering blooms for her bouquet,
She noticed a silvery dove.
Following the bird, she wandered alone
She found the unknown creek,
Stepping forward into the unknown,
And then he began to speak.
She heard his voice before she saw,
Him step from the shadow,
Before she could scream and withdraw,
His beautiful head bowed low.
He told her his tale, he spoke the truth,
She believed his every word,
She spoke her story, her hair shook loose,
Vulnerable as a bird.
He said he was a cabin-boy
(Though he was barely nineteen)
He’d seen Paris, and Lisbourne, and Troy
On the good ship African Queen.
She listened to him with delight
Her heart ablaze with fire
When he spoke, his face alight
With passion and desire.
These two lovers, newly met
Promised each other stars
But a crueller hand had they been dealt
And given them tears and scars
The African Queen prepared to sail
The lovers torn apart
The Phantom knew, as she grew pale
This boy would break her heart
With one final kiss, he said goodbye
And left our Phantom there
And as she gave one quivering sigh
She fell into despair
Where once she ate from golden plates
And drank from silver bowls
Now she sat and cursed the fates
And damned his wretched soul
For ten long years, the Phantom wept
And waited for his return
Until news arrived she would not accept
News that made her burn
A new love the boy had found
A woman from across the sea
A gale caused the ocean to pound
As the Phantom cursed his treachery
The Phantom pined, began to fade
Her heart torn asunder
She cast away all thoughts of aid
And threw herself to thunder
The sea welcomed her with open arms
An embrace to cool her despair
To forget his face, his smile, his charms
To give her a new singing prayer
Stood high above the ragged sea
Beautiful as the day,
How melancholy she can be,
The Phantom of Westbrook Bay.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem