For men who work the lonesome sea,
Across the mounts their homelands be.
And through the wood and o’er the pond
A widow mourns good fisherman John.
Who’s long since lost to the fell wave
And lies there in his coral grave.
His life gone there, his freedom spent.
The whole sea as his monument.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem