He is born of the Sea
And of it he will surely die.
Though he is learned in many new ways
He is never untrue to his inherent wisdom
For, like his parents, he knows the true values of money and fish.
He does not always know the way
But he is never misled.
You may see him run with wild dogs
And his bite may be worse than his bark
But it'll be his face in sight
By the beach-fire light
When others are enveloped by dark.
He mocks me when I'm arrogant,
Play's music when I'm drunk
and woebegone,
So I may find my way home to bed.
And in the twilight days
Of Grandchild haze
When one of us reaches his end,
He may call me the honeycomb lion
And I will call him a friend.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem