Ships of Poverty
Going through the Suez Canal in the fifties was
fraught every porthole and doors had to be
locked or we were robbed.
The ship swarmed with carpet sellers, thieves
and people selling dubious alcohol and
pornography that even looked old fashioned
and they were not shy touching up a young
sailor. And for us who had no education we
thought this was Egypt a country of robbers
and shameless perverts.
The Red Sea, Persian Gulf another nightmare
on ships that had no air condition. We slept
on deck to catch the cooling morning breeze.
Our suffering made ship owners very rich.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem