Meandering in a
maze
of motion,
we wound our
way
to Ophelia's ocean.
The tide! The tide!
Without walls or towers...
a dancing fountain
we would watch for hours.
Ophelia's fate was
sealed in mystery,
she was found swinging on a rope,
on an earthfast knotty tree.
Oh! Sing a song
as she dangles near the fountain,
about a woman and her ocean
that came down from the mountain.
So haunting and romantic,
such a tragic prophecy...
With the winds low moan, she swung all alone;
her dream's complete at the mouth of Ophelia's sea.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem