A storm has raged all evening and
While scraps made of sea spray are patching
The ragged seams sewn in the sand
I see below from where I stand
How waves’ necks break as they go crashing.

And I feel pity as they die,
A little - and from way up high.

I hear their croaks and dying gasps
And fury that they didn’t make it -
Well, if you have to race so fast,
Step up a gear, crash through the bars,
All to win by a neck, you’ll break it.

And I feel pity as they die
A little - and from way up high.

Oh, fortune’s manes white as a sheet!
Still lovelier now death is nearing,
The waves fly up on to their feet
As trumpets of battle entreat -
And break their curved necks as they’re rearing.

And we feel pity as they die,
A little - and from way up high.

The breakers’ crests are struck by squalls
Once more so their foam manes are ruffled;
The wave can’t jump clear of the wall,
The frothing horse then trips and falls,
Its legs kicked away in a scuffle.

And they’ll feel pity as it dies,
A little - and from way up high.

Then I’ll be next as from behind
I’m forced as if blown by a cyclone
Right to the edge while in my mind
A fevered feeling tells me I’m
Doomed too to break my neck and backbone.

And they’ll feel pity as I die,
A little - and from way up high.

Thus many as the years go by
Sit on the shore and safely watch there,
Attentively, with eagle eye,
How others floundering nearby
Break necks and backbones on the rocks there.

And they feel pity as they die,
A little - and from way up high.

But on the gloomy ocean floor,
Where whales inhabit secret hollows,
A wave beyond our ken is born
To rise up and engulf the shore
Till all those who watch it are swallowed.
 

And I’ll feel pity as they die
A little - and from way up high.