TEMPESTUOUS

She sits quite alone at the edge of the sea

Singing her songs of how love used to be;

Swaying and combing her long silken hair

Shining like gold on the cold morning air,

Ever seeking her lover: ‘Oh, where can he be?’

She sings her sad tales, but no ship does she see.

Runs hands over breasts where his lips once had played,

Caresses her body where his own hands had strayed;

Still singing sweet songs, but the rhythm gets stronger -

And she arches her back, cannot wait any longer

And her cry is so anguished, so baleful, so eerie

It crosses the waves, as she droops, becomes weary.

A man hears her strange song of grief and devotion

Amidst a storm rising far out on the ocean;

He sees the sky darken, the deep waters swirl

And remembers one night with a beautiful girl;

Remembers a sweet voice that sang him to sleep;

How she begged him to stay, but he left her to weep.

And she fell on her knees wrung her hands, tried to pray;

Such wailing and tears as his ship sailed away.

Now this voice on the wind is a terrible scream

That curdles his blood, and as if in a dream

He lets go of the tiller, stands still in the rain

While the mountainous waves crash again and again.

The lightning is flashing, on and on rolls the thunder –

Til a terrible whirlpool pulls man and boat under.

No trace of the sailor when the tempest abated.

The woman is still now, her passion full sated.

Her body still tingling with pain and with pleasure,

With regret and fulfilment in equal measure.

She scans the horizon for the next ship along,

Smiling, and singing her sweet Siren song.