Your awful voice I hear and I obey,
Brother to Jove and monarch of the sea.
Come down, my blusterers, swell no more,
Your stormy rage give o'er.
To your prisons below,
Down you must go.
In hollow rocks your revels make,
Nor 'till I call your trembling dens forsake.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A masterful construction by the real owner of this art!