La Mer

Mon oreille est un coquillage 　　
Qui aime le bruit de la mer

 

 

A white mist drifts across the shrouds,

A wild moon in this wintry sky

Gleams like an angry lion's eye

Out of a mane of tawny clouds.

The muffled steersman at the wheel

Is but a shadow in the gloom;

And in the throbbing engine-room

Leap the long rods of polished steel.

The shattered storm has left its trace

Upon this huge and heaving dome,

For the thin threads of yellow foam

Float on the waves like ravelled lace.

 

 

 

 

Au  revoir

 

Monaka Fujinami