Utopias; are they not the bane of
Impossible exploring?
Fable-isled, misting up out long gone
Crazed marriner's imploring?
Yet there stood we, and firm; soaked of this
Fount of joy's rainbow-uplift!
Unknown of each new world-sprung child.
Restless wisher, cast adrift!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem