The seven shores of sorrow
will drown in vain tomorrow
filled with gutless men and death
covered with blood of those unfled
Sirens will sing their song of lust
luring the men who're to be dust
trying to make the deed undone
so their lovers they'll become
When the shore thou dost reach
bid to thy gods, seven times each
for angels must be moved
If thy soul is pure and clear
none of this pain thou shalt bear
An endless sleep will you await
until Phorys makes you bait
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem