Crashing, roaring breakers
accost a rocky shore,
rising jaws of granite,
recalling myths of yore.
Raging winds shouting out
their dares to one and all,
do torment the sailors
like evil Satan's call.
A mighty fist of water
reaches for inbound ship.
Struggling in the breakers,
it must escape the rip.
Sails ripped from tow'ring spars,
Men are cast overboard;
the decks awash with waves
like some malignant hoard.
Far ahead, gleam of hope,
rising from hell's dark gate,
leads them past hungry rocks
and mitigates their fate.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem