You could talk to our captain as equal that day,
Cabin boys were a match to our skipper;
Tearing dressings away in a dazzling display
Sailors swarmed every piece of ship’s rigging.
Soon the doors of our brains
from their hinges were torn
By the blankets of lands,
by the visions of shores:
That are coveted, promised, and magic,
And Columbian and Magellanic.
But I won’t see a shore
or an island inbound:
Going nine knots or more
I have run hard aground!
But each man has his aim,
noble aim all around...
I myself am to blame
that I ran hard aground.
So away went my vessels - my brothers, my fleet.
And the sensitive ones swallowed splashes.
The great voyage went on without me on my feet,
Only sails were saluting with flashes.
Cursing weather and fortune
and everything else,
My stepchildren were leaving
me all by myself.
Then two salvos from launch boats - good heavens! -
From Columbus and one from Magellan.
I am drinking the foam,
for the wave does not reach;
From the decks to the bottom
my body is breached.
And my sides are all muddy
- you cannot ignore -
You are welcome to study
each ulcer and sore!
Here’s a hole at the rib, that’s the mark of a ball,
Here’s a scar from the ram, that’s a fracture.
Boarding hooks ripped my spine in a buccaneers brawl
When a pirate attempted my capture.
My old keel’s an uneven
guitar fingerboard:
By sharp corals I’m beaten,
my belly is gored.
Now I’m choking, decaying - forgotten.
Sometimes even the salted gets rotten.
Winds are drinking my blood
through the fissures and slits;
From my starboard to port
I am pummeled by winds.
I’m enduring strong gales
from the morning till dawn.
They are hammering nails
in my soul all along.
Like a drunkard they fouled every halyard and line,
They are guests who arrived, yet unwelcomed.
Wish they’d drown themselves dead in my holds with strong wine,
Or would blow me from shoals for a second!
I’ve believed in all this
like a hunted wild beast.
The malevolent winds
- they are wanted the least.
For my masts are like limbs that are weakened,
And my sails are the breasts of old women.
There will be the eighth wonder:
a generous tide
Will awash my whole body,
reviving my side,
Will remove this dark spell
by inflating my sails
Like the neck veins that swelled
during lengthy travails.
I’ll catch up with my kin, I’ll catch up, I’ll forgive
The armada that pledged to remember.
And I’ll let in my crew, for I have to admit
I do not hold my grudges forever.
But it seems I can’t get
back inside your closed ranks.
You jest not, old corvette,
move aside to the flanks!
I’m your brother, your kin,
I have dodged a close call.
Hear me, barque, let me in,
there is water for all.
How did this come about?
I cannot comprehend.
So, since I ran aground
then my journey must end?
Step aside, break the ranks,
we are ships after all.
There is water for us,
there is land for us all,
That is coveted, promised, and magic,
And Columbian and Magellanic.
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