Breizh

Need some fresh air
In Keltia I went
Air was indeed fresh
Ocean doing a winter

Stones are beautiful
Tall rocks
Stand still
Horizon earth - sky

Crêpes, cider, matelot

On a voyage we go

Direction who knows where

Pull the sails, moussaillon

A winter on earth
Small corner of the universe
Between ocean and sky
Hydromel memories

En français, ici.

And here comes the hard part about translation. The poem was originally written in french. The rhymes do work, but they get lost in the engles translation. If words are music, we can never translate music. Music is music, it is a language in itself. Such is math, such is any system which tries to codify, to give an image to a thing, such is the function of languages, "creation in order to subdue the torment of perception."