The Ancient Mariner. Poem by Durlabh Singh

I have always moved from the world of men
To the cold ethereal sea with frost bitten dregs
The bird’s sedge sings a soliloquy
Till the stones cover the moorlands of heaven
The land is sparse flat and scarcely smiles
Bidden by finches song which abide in brine
And the dry crust of hills fall from hamlets
To solidify
The skin of stoned cliffs on the garnets edge.

The sea has been my companion this wretched outcast
Myself has laughed and dried my eyes
Incorrigible with cracked foam
When the swan ceases to sing.
More weary eyed each day I become
Till the men from the land
Show up with their trophies
A killed sea monster, I pass ignoring
Their clamour and song to cold afflicted sea
Which I do not carry in my withered veins
Under piles of pitless pleas without a grain.