1) The poem is an ode to imperial galleys passing over a blue sea tomb containing the graves of brave men who have died.
2) The speaker is officiating a solemn requiem for the dead in the chill of the night upon the sacred waters where the graves lie at the bottom of the sea among seashells and seaweed.
3) The graves contain the bodies of "Prometheuses of Hope" and "Apostles of Pain" who are sleeping in their holy repose, watched over by the calming sea so as not to disturb them.
1) The poem is an ode to imperial galleys passing over a blue sea tomb containing the graves of brave men who have died.
2) The speaker is officiating a solemn requiem for the dead in the chill of the night upon the sacred waters where the graves lie at the bottom of the sea among seashells and seaweed.
3) The graves contain the bodies of "Prometheuses of Hope" and "Apostles of Pain" who are sleeping in their holy repose, watched over by the calming sea so as not to disturb them.
1) The poem is an ode to imperial galleys passing over a blue sea tomb containing the graves of brave men who have died.
2) The speaker is officiating a solemn requiem for the dead in the chill of the night upon the sacred waters where the graves lie at the bottom of the sea among seashells and seaweed.
3) The graves contain the bodies of "Prometheuses of Hope" and "Apostles of Pain" who are sleeping in their holy repose, watched over by the calming sea so as not to disturb them.
Hail to you, imperial galleys! Lower mighty rudders!
Walk with silent tread I'm proudly officiating a sublime Requiem in the chill of the night Upon these sacred waters. There at the bottom, where seashells sleep tired from catch And upon the dead algae peat falls, Lay graves of the brave, lay brother to brother Prometheuses of Hope, Apostles of Pain. Do you not feel how the sea calms, That it may not trouble their holy repose? From the deep abyss peaceful slumber ebbs, And tired flight of the shadow of the moon slowly walks. This is a mysterious temple and a sad graveyard With decaying carcasses, unfathomably real. Silent as the night upon southern islands, Dark as a conscience, cold and despairing. Do you not feel from azure depths, That piety grows atop spilled water And the air fills with curious gentleness? That great soul of the fallen roams Hail to you, imperial galleys! Upon this tomb my brothers Twist the trumpets in black. Let your sentry, upright, chant the holy dirge Here, where waves come to an embrace! For the centuries will pass, like white foam that crosses the sea and dies without a trace, And a new and great age will come, To create a splendid home upon this grave. But this graveyard, where it is buried the terrible mystery of the Epic, The cradle will be the tale of the times, Where the soul will seek out its Coryphaeus.
Buried are here once ancient garlands
And the passing joy of more than one generation, That's why this cemetery lies in the shadow of waves Between the bosom of the sea and the vault celestial. Hail to you, imperial galleys! Extinguish the torches, Let the oars come to a blustering rest, And when the Requiem prayers are said, steal away into the dark night inaudibly and with reverential awe. I wish for the eternal silence to rule and for the glorious dead to hear the noise of Battles, And rejoice in our cries of victory, as we cast ourselves beneath the wings of Glory upon the fields vermillion with blood. For, there far away, battles sway With the same blood that emanates from this resting-place: Here above the eye of the resting lords, There before the son's history is made. That's why I seek peace, to officiate a Requiem without words, without tears and quiet sighs, Mingle with the odor of powder, the perfume of incense As we hear resound the far noise of the cannon. Hail to you, imperial galleys! In the name of a conscientious fast Glide lightly upon these sacred waters. A Requiem I'm officiating, one that heavens have yet to see upon these sacred waters!