Desolate sea
between steel sky and dusky shore.
A sinister mist creeps in,
adds to the grey gloom.
Flat calm.
Stillness.
Complete silence.
A seabird cries.
Shingle-rippling wavelets, bubble and make reply.
The gull continues his mournful song
evoking sea-lost souls.
Waves,
now churning time-worn pebbles,
advance,
inexorably -
a soulful seascape in shades of grey.
Others take up the seabird's reveille.
Ghostly forms
float intangibly
on the morning mist.
Golden light, gathers on the horizon -
slow, diffuse at first, later, laser-like,
bright rays burn off the vapours.
Then,
suddenly,
in splendour,
the Sun appears.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Inspired indeed. your poetry is like a fine classical painting, I feel like I'm standing on the shore watching... as nature paints a beautiful picture... or in this case as William Messent paints a beautiful picture. brilliant piece of work.