SalutEnglish
A Toast
Nothing, this foam, virgin verse Depicting the chalice alone: Far off a band of Sirens drown Many of them head first.
We sail, O my various Friends, I already at the stern, You at the lavish prow that churns The lightning’s and the winters’ flood:
A sweet intoxication urges me Despite pitching, tossing, fearlessly To offer this toast while standing
Solitude, reef, and starry veil To whatever’s worthy of knowing The white anxiety of our sail.
Translated by A. S. Kline © Copyright 2004-2009 All Rights Reserved
