Protégez moi, Seigneur; ma barque
est si petite et votre mer est si grande.*
Wind blows down between the hills,
strengthening as it swoops onto the lake.
The sleeper doesn’t stir and as water fills
our lurching boat, still he doesn’t wake.
We’ve fought to save ourselves: the sail
is reefed, each struggles to hold an oar
as water cascades over us; if we fail
to steady the boat, we cannot reach the shore.
We’re overwhelmed, how can you sleep in peace?
Master, wake up; we perish! Don’t you care?
One word from you can bid the tempest cease
and be the answer to our earnest prayer:
Save us, good Lord, from this deluge
our boat is tiny and your ocean huge.
* Old Breton fishermen’s prayer.