Retreat to Lindisfarne
In search of the Holy Isle
In sabbatical seclusion
Close to the beginnings
Where the sun rises quickly
And surf rolls in
Breaking the silence
Of a pebbled beach
Turning energy into refinement
Moulded, but not as clay,
Rounded with the earth’s rotation
Tumbled to near perfection
Then merged with a Celtic cross
In the cleansing of breaking waves.
Lindisfarne
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem