The soundful surf
Thunders under the eye
Of the mourning moon
And thunders again,

While flashes
Savage and strange
Rip the ochre sky
With long, clear slashes,

Each tear,
Like a spastic leap,
Comes and goes
Along the reefs, gleams and screams

And in the heavens,
Where the tempest turns,
Thunder crashes
Like a great wonder.

—”Marine,” Paul Verlaine. Translated by B. Collins