Darkness shrouds that floating shack
An evil cold it does not lack
I close my eyes and don't look back
I hear the bells of a ship in the distance
And scramble together a feeble resistance
I turn round and what do I see?
That black ship still cursing me
It's coming to take its usual fee
From its wake I cannot flee
We sail on through the night
Every sail bent, but try as we might
We look behind us in the dawning light
Make ready the guns, we're going to fight
Peering out through the mist
Nervous for battle, a frozen fist
There in the fog, a charging mast!
The dreaded warship: My Haunting Past
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem