I ride on a little ship round which the storm foams
with the sea trying with green fingers
to drag me down to its depths.
Still I bob up and down
while many bolts of lightning fall around me
and I see myself mirrored
in the mighty water
folding around me
and in unfathomable depths
I see my spirit
struggling on without boundaries,
interminable of what destiny determines
and it is ready to survive
and bonded in friendship until death.
[Reference: Les Fleurs du Mal: Man and the sea by Charles Pierre Baudelaire.]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem