Pagans of unrest settle on ocean waves, rising and ebbing,
eternally forgotten.
Unsubstantiated steps towards new horizons are halted,
unable to reoccur or continue.
Lasting impressions erase themselves and are hidden forever
in depths of blackest ebony.
Waylaid, posterity titters on the edge, reaching and never
grasping pathways to inner stability.
Programmed lineage takes a step backwards and falls into a
deep purity of silence.
All is quiet as pagans of unrest settle on ocean waves,
undisturbed, unenlightened and perturbed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a similar question to mine in 'Pourquoi, par example', Rose Ann