The sky is dark, overcast with the cotton.
Wind blows hard raving against the Order.
A ship set sail along the face of troubled waters,
Compassed towards the core of ultimate hullabaloo.
Waves thong with force in their innate state of frenzy,
Blading rashly the limbs of the doomed sailor.
The path is gloomy and the air dreary.
Thunder roars and lightning splits.
Nature grumbles with tumultous revolt.
The somber face of the sailor falls in dismay.
His listless eyes speak of his dejected self.
Such is his journey to the limits of vacuumed inland,
From whence he vigils over, an alert guard,
The scenes and people of the outside world.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem