At times I resort, beyond man's discerning,
Under surging billows to seek the bottom,
The ocean depths. Then the sea is shaken,
Convulsed with foam, and the whale-flood rages
In giant uproar. The ocean streams
Beat on the shore and batter the slopes
With rock and sand, with seaweed and wave.
As I struggle and strain in the ocean depths
I shake the land and the vast sea-bottom.
From my watery covering I cannot forth
Till He grant me freedom Who guides my way
On every journey. O wise of wit,
Tell who can draw me from ocean depths
When the seas grow still and the waves are calm
Which formerly covered and cloaked me over.
?Closely at times my master confines me,
Forces me under the fruitful plain,
The earth's broad bosom, and holds me at bay,
Pens my strength in prison and darkness
Where the earth sits heavy and hard on my back!
Out of that bondage escape is barred,
But I wrench and rock the dwellings of men.
The halls horn-gabled totter and topple
And over the households the high walls shake;
The air seems still, and the sea is silent,
Until from bondage I burst my way
As He may guide Who in the beginning
Laid fetters upon me and bitter bonds;
I may not ever escape from His power
Who governs my going.
At times from above
I must rouse the waters and stir the waves
And dash on its beaches the flint-gray flood.
The foaming breakers fight with the sea-wall,
Hills of water heave dark on the deep;
Each follows other in dusky track,
Churning combers that batter the cliffs
At the edge of the land. On ship is uproar,
Shouting of sailors. The steep stone cliffs
Await the sea-war, the crashing of waves,
As the dashing billows buffet the headlands.
On ship is dread of the perilous strife
Lest the ocean bear it with its burden of souls
To the dreadful hour when foaming it drives,
Bereft of rudder, stripped of sailors,
On the shouldering surges. Then terror shall come
In stormy might on the sons of men
Which is greater than I. Whose power shall still it?
?At times I rush through the clouds that ride me,
Black vessels of rain, and scatter them far;
At times I join and gather them in.
The greatest of tumults resounds over cities,
The loudest of thunders, when cloud meets cloud
Edge against edge. Then swift over men
The swart shapes sweat bright fire and flame,
And dark o'er the hosts with the greatest of dins
The thunder breaks. Then the battling hosts
From their bosoms shed dark showers of rain,
Water from the womb. They fight their way on,
Dread troop on troop, and the terror grows,
Dismay of men and fear in the cities,
When the stalking specters shoot forth their fire.
?The fool then fears not the deadly arrows,
But he perishes surely if God in sooth
Out of the rain and the roar of the whirlwind
Looses against him a flying bolt.
But few survive whom the swift foe strikes,
Reaches with weapon. I rouse this strife
When I rush in might with a meeting of clouds
O'er the breast of torrents; then burst with a roar
The cloud-troops on high. Then low under heaven
I bow to earth and load on my back,
At the word of my Lord, the burden I carry.
?And so at times, a powerful slave,
I work under earth; at times I descend
Under surges of ocean; at times from above
I rouse the sea-streams; at times I mount up
And whirl the cloud-drift. Widely I fare
Strong and swift! Say what I'm called;
Who it is rouses me when I may not rest;
Who it is stays me when again I'm still.
Under surging billows to seek the bottom,
The ocean depths. Then the sea is shaken,
Convulsed with foam, and the whale-flood rages
In giant uproar. The ocean streams
Beat on the shore and batter the slopes
With rock and sand, with seaweed and wave.
As I struggle and strain in the ocean depths
I shake the land and the vast sea-bottom.
From my watery covering I cannot forth
Till He grant me freedom Who guides my way
On every journey. O wise of wit,
Tell who can draw me from ocean depths
When the seas grow still and the waves are calm
Which formerly covered and cloaked me over.
?Closely at times my master confines me,
Forces me under the fruitful plain,
The earth's broad bosom, and holds me at bay,
Pens my strength in prison and darkness
Where the earth sits heavy and hard on my back!
Out of that bondage escape is barred,
But I wrench and rock the dwellings of men.
The halls horn-gabled totter and topple
And over the households the high walls shake;
The air seems still, and the sea is silent,
Until from bondage I burst my way
As He may guide Who in the beginning
Laid fetters upon me and bitter bonds;
I may not ever escape from His power
Who governs my going.
At times from above
I must rouse the waters and stir the waves
And dash on its beaches the flint-gray flood.
The foaming breakers fight with the sea-wall,
Hills of water heave dark on the deep;
Each follows other in dusky track,
Churning combers that batter the cliffs
At the edge of the land. On ship is uproar,
Shouting of sailors. The steep stone cliffs
Await the sea-war, the crashing of waves,
As the dashing billows buffet the headlands.
On ship is dread of the perilous strife
Lest the ocean bear it with its burden of souls
To the dreadful hour when foaming it drives,
Bereft of rudder, stripped of sailors,
On the shouldering surges. Then terror shall come
In stormy might on the sons of men
Which is greater than I. Whose power shall still it?
?At times I rush through the clouds that ride me,
Black vessels of rain, and scatter them far;
At times I join and gather them in.
The greatest of tumults resounds over cities,
The loudest of thunders, when cloud meets cloud
Edge against edge. Then swift over men
The swart shapes sweat bright fire and flame,
And dark o'er the hosts with the greatest of dins
The thunder breaks. Then the battling hosts
From their bosoms shed dark showers of rain,
Water from the womb. They fight their way on,
Dread troop on troop, and the terror grows,
Dismay of men and fear in the cities,
When the stalking specters shoot forth their fire.
?The fool then fears not the deadly arrows,
But he perishes surely if God in sooth
Out of the rain and the roar of the whirlwind
Looses against him a flying bolt.
But few survive whom the swift foe strikes,
Reaches with weapon. I rouse this strife
When I rush in might with a meeting of clouds
O'er the breast of torrents; then burst with a roar
The cloud-troops on high. Then low under heaven
I bow to earth and load on my back,
At the word of my Lord, the burden I carry.
?And so at times, a powerful slave,
I work under earth; at times I descend
Under surges of ocean; at times from above
I rouse the sea-streams; at times I mount up
And whirl the cloud-drift. Widely I fare
Strong and swift! Say what I'm called;
Who it is rouses me when I may not rest;
Who it is stays me when again I'm still.