No brush will ever render true,
The fluid transparent aqueous blue,
Nor words do justice to describe,
The ebb and flow of rushing tide,
Barely stirring golden dust,
Beneath pellucid glassy thrust;
As I lie within this flow,
Each nerve caressed from head to toe,
My arms outstretched towards the sun,
The sky, the sea and I are one.
I shift my frame from high to deep,
Propel myself with eager feet,
Into the realm of Neptune's lair,
Without a thought, without a care.
I know the Sea-god will not mind,
If I intrude his watery bind;
I come not to invade his reign,
He fears no loss, and knows my gain.
Slowly, into liquid light I sink,
A sudden play of colours blink,
Forming patterns I cannot hold,
Green, vermillion brown and gold,
Dazzling bright over the dark,
Fallen pillars, which mark,
Lines of a lost citadel,
Laid to sleep, inside a bell
Of silent time, caressed by soft
Currents that now carry aloft,
My helpless frame to scare;
Burst the blue membrane, gasp air.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem