The Old Sailors
First time I went to sea, it was as a galley boy on an old ship
after being sea-sick for two days throwing up among pots & pans
I took a look at the crew who appeared a strange lot like
they didn`t really exist just had come onboard for a visit from
fog filled Saragossa where they would return as soon as this voyage
was over, they had the night about them of torpedoed ship in a war
when the sea burned or drowned the unfortunate.
I took a liking to old ships there was no posing of officers the crew
members had little in the way of discipline they did their job no one
was looking for a favour they had lost connection with family after
4 to5 months they left got a room at a cheap hotel near the harbour
they felt at ease with other misfits like a pocket- thieves and tarts
I wanted to be like them taking life as it comes not getting involved
The old sailors had found something I could not emulate their
peace of mind was shrouded in the mist a yearning for Saragossa.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem