The sun is low and soft as down.
Her light sleeps on the water
In slumber unbroken by sound.
The waves are small and gently slide
Over each other; liquid silver
Stretching far and reaching wide.
In the gold and silent haze
No beast or bird is moving
In this the gentlest of days.
Then, softly, waves lengthen,
Heighten, grow strong
In one place they darken.
Sudden, like a break of thunder
On a frozen sky,
The sea is torn asunder.
The waves rip apart and shatter
Like glass turned liquid.
And there is something greater:
Slippery-black and shiny white,
It fills the sky for a moment
A huge and majestic sight.
Time slows, halts, a second flees
As in the air it suspends,
A Lord of all these earthly seas.
Then, slow, it falls, crashes down.
The water leaps like fire
High; Sparkling beads all around.
Then it is gone; The sea settles with
No sound. It sleeps
And the orca returns to myth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem