This ill wind that blew me from your sacred shores
carries me one day further onto this dolesome sea.
Out of earshot from the comforting knell of your sanctuary,
where I once cloistered in your embrace
I have lost my way with no direction home.
Without your beacon my course is lost,
without your lodestone my compass is adrift.
I am at the mercy of every whim and fancy of this aimless,
drifting tide that carries me to what?
Is my destiny now to crash upon some calamitous reef?
How am I to find my way without your guiding beam?
I will pray to the god of compassion, now my only hope,
that he will find a miracle to set you in the sky,
high above my horizon, shining true and clear,
my ever constant beloved, my precious guiding star.