Dry wind, cracked lips
Last drop of water he sips
Bobbing on the waves
Incoherent visions of graves
Desperately scanning around
Ship's horn would be such a wonderful sound
Eyesight blurred by the sun
Last bit of food begun
Nibbling with fear and delight
Overwhelmed by his hopeless plight
Anxiously waiting for help to arrive
Passing voyager, his only chance to survive
Slowly going insane
Visions of death, dance in his brain
For help, his passionate plea
A lonely man, lost at sea
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem