Παρασκευή, 29 Ιουλίου 2016

The boat | Βόρειος Άνεμος

Onward we move, we breathe, we seethe
Our dreams, our hopes, all drowned in Lethe
Our arms for oars, our spines for masts
Our feet sit still, in webs and rust

For weeks we sail, for months we starve
We eat the salt, the wood we carve
Our only thought, our only steering
childhood’s crave of pioneering

The ocean’s calm, no sight of land
we, on the boat, hold hand in hand
We travel far, we travel long
We keep ourselves alive with songs

There is no move, we’ve no breath left
Our dreams, our hopes lay down bereft
The ocean’s calm, there is no land
We try to sail some more but can’t

Each other holding, stare in eye
We know now that we’re going to die
Because the land was never there
Just salt and ocean and the air.

Original: Σ.Ν.Μ. [16 June 2013] | Bόρειος Άνεμος


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