A thousand airy harps
a million showers of
dews, to-night.
The fleet in the port
sleep, the ancient
fleet, the ghost of fleets,
to-night.
sing
a thousand harps
a million angel tongues
spirits at loose
restless
to get in birth again
start all over again
not err as erred before
not
regret as regretted before
new life
new descent.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem