That night it rained, the tide was high, <br />A heavy, grey fog covered all the coast, <br />The breakers barked like dogs, the waves <br />Joined their black sobs to the weeping of the sky, <br />Infinity shook and in its urn mixed up <br />The dark whirlings of the nocturnal abyss. <br />The night's mouths seemed to roar in the air <br />I heard the warning cannon by the sea. <br />Sailors in danger calling for help. <br />In the shade where blast followed blast, <br />Without pilot, without mast, without anchor or shelter, <br />Some lost vessel let out its last cry. <br />I left. An old woman, passing by troubled, <br />Told me: 'It perished. It's a little fishing boat. <br />I ran to the sea side and only saw a shroud <br />Of fog, and of night, and of horror, and me alone; <br />And the wave, turning its face to the abyss, <br />As if to send away a witness to its crime, <br />Furious, begin to howl after me. <br /> <br />What are you then, jealous God, God of testing and terror, <br />God of collapses, of gulfs, of storms, <br />That you are not happy with so many shipwrecks, <br />That after swallowing so many strong and mighty, <br />You still have time left for the ordinary man, <br />That upon the least forehead your arm leaves its mark, <br />And that even after France, you still needed that boat!<br /><br />Victor Marie Hugo<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/that-night-it-rained/
