On island cliffs of Ogygia I stand
Awaiting tall ships; approaching the land
Enchanting the mariners with a song
As I lull them to sleep, before the long
Be condemned to an absent existence
Sealing wax, be ye only resistance
So if by thy troth my music ye loved
And lashed to the mast so that ye be gloved
Thus I lull you to sleep, before the long
Capture your soul with my mystical song
‘Twas so; on this island all pleasures be
That my desire ‘twas a dream of thee
For the love of my song and my controls
I bid you good-morrow to all dead souls
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem