Above the solemn sleep is a prize of potency,
It is a film of address, a dressing so red and blue,
While below, it sounds mellifluous to the finite ear,
Like additional reward, little hearty news of delight.
Afterwards the architect is you, sunken into depths of water,
Antiques roam by, grasping them is your skill.
Many bodies arrest your school of fishes, like sharks in dress,
As fast as articles of joy and spies, licking the tails and fins.
Then the beard called the beach arrives, it has baggage,
Above the sleepy patterns of this night underwater;
Badly spoken it derives a quick resurrection, a queer fit,
For those in bed at night who hear the sonorous calls of the deep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem