On the shore
The Spirits, ghosts and shrouds
And shadows meet to tell
Tale after tale
Yarn after yarn
Of the sea, sunken ships,
Of murders by the shore at break of dawn
Of knocking strange by unseen hands
And hundreds of these yarns
In front beyond the firth
Stretches the finger of mists and
Foreshores crude.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem