The moon casts a shadow stretching across
cold murky water embraced by the winds
all rushing towards their impending loss
and men seek forgiveness for all their sins
Ripples of water embrace their cold face
as tiredness cajoles their drooping eyes
a lone stoic voice calls to speed the pace
no power on earth can silence their cries
The stars start to fade come the morning light
the whaling ships crew pray over their catch
All standing and watching with hands held tight
embracing their knives they start to dispatch
Gone are the days of the lone widows walk
Of the Men of Nantucket folks still talk.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem