Sthephan G. Stephansson Poetry

Now you are sleeping,
Sigrid dear!
sleeping sweetly
in gentle slumber;
eyes shut,
lips closed,
the flush fled
from your fair cheek.

Your bed stands
bedecked with dusk,
encircled by clammy
ocean currents;
now you have found
foster-sisters
in all the waves
of the Atlantic.

Written in 1881

Translated by Bernard Scudder.

She died on the Atlantic, heading west. We were cousins.