She is an ocean and a desert
a white candle and a deep sapphire;
the great tempest sent by you
to test my heart's voyage.
It is she whom I taste upon my lips
not the foam of a raging sea.
She who stung my eyes to tears
not the burning sands.
Her flame that lights my path
not the flickering lamp.
She it was who purchased my freedom
not the great jewel of Tabriz.
And it was she who opened
my soul. No great wind
nor wave, that set my
ship on a course to your
unfound shores.
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 1:27 PM UTC
She is an ocean and a desert
a white candle and a deep sapphire;
the great tempest sent by you
to test my heart's voyage.
It is she whom I taste upon my lips
not the foam of a raging sea.
She who stung my eyes to tears
not the burning sands.
Her flame that lights my path
not the flickering lamp.
She it was who purchased my freedom
not the great jewel of Tabriz.
And it was she who opened
my soul. No great wind
nor wave, that set my
ship on a course to your
unfound shores.
See "the Tale of the Mariner", J.R.R. Tolkein's "The Book of Lost Tales I".
Request permission to use this poem