Storm Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

Storm

The waves in the storm raged Pacific Ocean waves became
deep ravines and tall mountains; in the binoculars, I saw
an American hangar ship, its massive deck was glistering iron
swept of all human activities, this was not a day for wars
The bulk vessel was returning from Japan, where a cargo of
scrap iron had been unloaded, so she was not so heavy in
the water; a good thing when she ploughed deep down
a watery valley, and the sea high above the ship, came
crashing down, but up she came quivering like a wet dog
As she climbed the tall blue mountain; at the crescent
I saw the horizon before she dived into another ravine.
The captain sat strapped in a high chair, keeping an eye
on the gigantic waves, the ship had to face the cyclone
straight on and not were starboard or portside, it that
happened, it would spell disaster, a broadside wave
would tip her over and there, no one would alive to tell
a story in a bar, I made a thermos of coffee and meat
sandwiches for him
Walking up three flights of stairs was not easy, like falling
and falling down at the time and not having anything
to focus on, made me nauseous and nervous.
The captain sat in his chair, smoking cigarettes and looking
at the sea; is it not overwhelming, he said. Yes, it was
nature in its fury that made us feel humble.
Walking down backwards, couldn't risk falling and diving
into a wall.