The attempted search remained a triumph,
These seas are founded on the beliefs of generations,
But the search was a generation,
And the boy was in the cabin looking grim.
The search was a neck of worries,
They drew the lad into a card-game,
Work was the majority of the sailing crew,
Liking the worries of a day on the shore.
The search for a boy was a lad's task,
The crew sounded offensive and defensive,
But the lad was a good player of words and lines,
This poetry does not object to this childhood.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem