[Skybird]

Hey, I found a translation - and it even is an acceptable one!


Nightly, after all their day’s travail,
since his gracious hosts had asked about
his journeys and sojourns, he will regale
them softly with his yarns: and yet without

suspecting how they started, and at which
bold word they turned to see, like him, in those
calm, blue island-studded seas how rich
the golden shimmer of that island glows,

just the sight of which evokes the scent
of danger, well removed from far more common
rage and wrath, where it was often spent.
Soundlessly it overtakes the seamen,

who understand that sometimes song will soar
from that golden island’s boundary,
and who apply themselves now to the oars
as though surrounded

by the silence which within holds all
of that expanse, and at their ears insists,
as though its obverse were that very call
which no mere mortal ever can resist.