With age-old masts creaking,
cursed by Godly wrath,
just before the worst storms in the Cape do begin
an ancient ship is sighted sailing
as a token to break the scorn and blasphemy of man
or so the legend says, with a skeleton at the wheel
of the Flying Dutchman, full of ungodly sailors
who forever glare at each other with thoughts of revenge,
as a spectre strait out of the portals of hell
and if I do remember correctly
there is no salvation or sleep for anyone aboard
and everything turns around the love of a woman
that lived in the most beautiful Cape
and now I wonder how long that ship is still going to sail
as every now and then some seamen do notice it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem