Which face it has, to scare in
Not that we can see it
Projects now, more conscious of
What our worst nightmares lit.
Encountered, never waved at;
Less person than presence.
Its symptoms, old sea-borne tale's
Chill-gripping in essence.
Dare its fogs! Acquiring that of
An explorer's glory
Riches, if not of new lands
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem