Three maroons on this stormy night
Clinkered stalwart lifeboat
On the oily slip, oars in rowlocks
Held by splice and knotted rope
The lifeboat crew touch their forlocks
To the master in the stern, a trawler
From this tiny hamlet, fishing far at sea
Is missing, all have thought she's sunk
On her stern only a coracle
Waves high as a racing horses neck
Troughs black as treacle
Turned this boat into a wreck
On the grey old timbered pier
Grieving wives of fishermen
Stand like soldiers on leave parade
In the wet and soaking rain
Faces drawn and etched by hardship
Small in stature of their pain
The lifeboat slides into the sea
Oarsmen with a fathom blade
Pull with the gravelled shout of stroke
These are local fishermen, none are paid
Row for the lives of fellow men
Soon the lifeboats out of sight
On the shore three burning beacons
A light to guide them home
Suddenly out at sea, a lantern
The grieving women moan
Through the spume of falling waves
A dark prow of the lifeboat
Filled with the hamlets fishermen
Soaking wet, but all are saved.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sounds very good could u make one for my social studies project