I own the sea
for
I am a Poet Seer
I own the sea-waves when
they spume
in the long nights
the winds hum round
and round
over the houses and
the steeples pointed
with sound
things fall and clank
and in the fracas
of dilapidation
the sound
goes round and round
the whistling gale
still runs.
Ah! my Soul be still
in my body
today:
in the warmth of viscera
and the rest
It peeps its head sometimes
feels the gritty cold
draws back.
the waters
they still run over the
winds
the lazy leaves inane
and sleepy-drear...
they get the winds
to carry them round
and round
they
fall unto the winds
to carry them
they fall
For
I own the sea
for
I am a Poet Seer
I own the sea-waves when
they spume
in the long nights
the winds hum round
and round
over the houses and
the steeples pointed
with sound
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem