I stand like the Irish king Cuchulain
By the turbulent sea
With swelling emotion of billows
Which has the stoical land for a pillow
And the deep ocean bed
With dark secrets for resting.
There octopuses, blue whales and sharks reign.
I battle with the tide
Which attack me like horses in vain.
My mind’s mermaid loses salvation
And prays unheard moving
The pearls of the deep’s rosary one by one.

Again I move to the volcano’s crater
And stands there little knowing the fire flowers
Rage inside teeming with pain, sin and hunger.
It erupts without warning
Burning my dreams to ashes.

The woods have a spell over me
With its infinite greenery
Hiding with its emerald veil tigers and lions
Lurking and growling behind the assuming scenery.
And lo! They spring at me
With a blood-curdling cry.

At last I seek refuge in the wheat fields
Dancing with aureate ears in the wind.
Here in the midst of plenty
I feel finally infinite peace of mind.