The sea has its voice – its own voice
That tells of secrets and intrigues
And love and hate and fear and greed
All – all in its feeble language lapping
To the cool dances of the restless waves
To the gold rays of the strong mid-day Sun
To the dark awnings of the coming nights
The sea has its voice – its own voice:
That voice that in its crystalline sparkles spells
Indistinct humble mumble like the voice
Of a small child - and lapping
To the cool dances of the restless waves.
It dreams, it dreams, it dreams.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem