I, for nae my soul, smoke or mist
Thine eyes upon, beside those tender lips
Hair of waves creates an amber bliss
Must nae for mine, her harlot kiss
Onward past her star like eyes
Waylay by the end of her Siren lie
Her wanting need, forever mine
At the bottom once they die
Hear Ye, The man whom chimes ships bell
The ninth harmonic of the hour; Roaring loud
Such beauty finds where a man's heart dwells
A value weighed in Hell
From now a day; Whence has begun
In waters deep beneath a reaching sun
There is mine, 'My Loves; ' A siren's song
Has taken all but one
Bodies abound on the seafloor, plenty
They 'whom' have lost all hope
She has chosen one for many
Presumes an unholy hold
Death will always calm the sea
For them, the winds may never blow
The harvest deep below the ocean
Shall then bleach the litter of bones
Stormy eyes surround their affliction
A possessing charmer offers gold
Undue pleasure has no exemption
Nae, whence a sea harlot calls you home
(04/02/2023)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem