An angry ocean guides our ship astray;
waters that promise and pull beneath.
Sightings of land through false teeth,
with only storms day by day.
A broken compass leads the way
to a barren and forgotten heath.
An angry ocean guides our ship astray;
waters that promise and pull beneath.
All along the departure bay
gatherers await to bequeath
Upon the bow hung a black wreath,
written inside, “For your safe return, we pray, ”
but an angry ocean guides our ship astray.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem