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The Sea

February 9, 2019

 

My sleeping spirit wakes

As the town’s vespers

Ascend the stairless sky

And the sea whispers.

 

The rushing waves arrive

Upon the craggy                                  

Shores of consciousness

And the sea whispers.                                     

 

Like the mariner's song

Or an ancient dirge,

Which the paling waves hum

As the sea-storms surge.

 

Through the hidden grottoes
And cavern waters 
Lie the countless demesnes
Through which she whispers.

 

Like some magic seashell

On an antique shore

Echoing, a thousand words

Of sage-like lore.

 

Upon the earthly sod,

Of sunken treasures

And ships long forgotten

She quiet whispers.

 

Like a forlorn nymph

Who weeps and shivers

In her hallowed grots,

And sacred rivers— 

 

Hoping for love’s tidings,

Her quiet vespers,

Upon the boundless seas,

She softly whispers.

 

Like a beautiful swan

With its broken wings,

Whose delicate soul flies

As the night-tide sings.

 

So my dreaming spirit

Slumber enters

As the clouds veil the moon,

And the sea whispers.

 

 

David is a translator, poet and linguist based in Montreal.

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