The Seagull

A hole in the cliffs
Is my nest but the sea calls me,
And I cradle my dreams
In the hollows of the waves.
The role of Your ocean
Is with me in the sky,
Where I swing
On one wing, then the other,
And plummet
Like a stone
On the living flash
Of a fish.
Lord,
Does my poignant cry
Echo the endless travail
That beats on Your shore?
I am the bird
Like salt,
Grey and white,
A bitter tang
That does not fade;
And the ships
Outward bound
Watch me out of sight,
A little handkerchief
Waving goodbye.
In the restlessness of my kingdom,
Lord,
Let the storm spare me.
Amen
--Carmen Bernos de Gasztold
Translated from French by Rumer Godden