The storm raves on all night, I stand And watch the waves, in fury foaming, Patch up the ruptured seams of sand - I gaze from a distant height of land As waves smash heads while shoreward homing. Some sympathies in me there are For those so lost - but from afar. I hear the wheeze and deathly moan And frenzy of those vainly striving, - And why not - seize the drive for home, Refurbish strength, pierce through the foam - And smash oneís head upon arriving. Some sympathies in me there are For those so lost - but from afar.
Again the winds on wavecrests beat And cause the foaming manes to rumple. The waves wonít rise to clear the reef, - Like horses swept right off their feet - They, frothing, take a fatal tumble. Some sympathies indeed there are For horses lost - but from afar.
              I too will thus be torn apart By raging wind which never ceases. A prescient babbling in my heart Hints that Iíll break my back and start To see my own head smashed to pieces. Some sympathies indeed there are For my lost soul - but from afar. Thus many watch, from days of yore, Upon the shore, the scene unspoken, Transfixed, alert, while more and more, The souls of others toward them pour And backs and heads on rocks are broken. Some sympathies indeed there are For those so lost - but from afar.
               
© John Woodsworth. Translation, 2004