Canto I

Canto I

Naked in Lir's Embrace,
Suspended, on the tide.
         Washandflow the ebbandflow.
His children frolicking in the
Washandflow the ebbandflow.
Pale light shimmers and casts itself upon the
         Washandflow, the ebbandflow.
The rolling white riding the blue,
Crashes and splashes, washing
Over your breasts, drifting;
         The upturned bellies of
         Fallen turns, cutting through the
Washandflow the ebbandflow.
Those irises in a field of snow,
Falling, slipping into the deep
Embracing arms of Lir.
His sons following, gawking, beneath the
         Washandflow the ebbandflow.

Though vast his embrace;
Cold and unforgiving.
Harsh, barren, lonely,
         Solely Manannan leering.
She breathes, though silently,
Bubbles drift beyond sight
To his rising and falling chest.
Her, tight, in his embrace.

She has fallen,
From the reach of the oars o'er her head.
Not hearing the steady drum.
And Lir,
In his palm the party,
Does not disclose, her essence
In his deep embrace.
With the lanterns sweeping and gazing,
The Party should find nothing.

She is Eλένη, Aliénor and Jeanne
Laksmī, lotus in palm of Lir.

The Party should find nothing.
She has fallen,
Beyond the lantern light's grasp.
Góntia transcending the aether,
Enrobing Lir, in a silver silk.
The deck hand's faces shadowed,
Glowing momentarily in the shimmer
From the rising and falling.
Shouting:
         "In nomine Patris, Fillis, Spiritus Sancti...
         "Sceller les sabords!
         "Délivre nous du mal...
The Anemoi rose, to defend her secrets.
Zephyrus de l'Est charges forth;
Canvases bloated, the bow plunges into the sea;
         A hound nudging Lir for mercy.
Sailors hang from the starboard by
Notus' rising from the south.
The rains pummel the deck and beat
The watchman drowning in the crow's nest.
Between the battle of the Anemoi,
The sailors frozen in their innocence,
Only in search of her secrets.
Boreas looming above in the north
Breathes his last breath.

The white crested fingers of Lir
Fill the portholes.
The Crew of the Νάρκισσος,
         Men of the most common type,
Misunderstood her,
Drowned.
White capped fingers press
Into the hull; the white riding the blue,
Rolling in immersing, the proud vessel
Sinking into the embrace of Lir.