This tale is true, and mine. It tells How the sea took me, swept me back And forth in sorrow and fear and pain, Showed m
This tale is true, and mine. It tells How the sea took me, swept me back And forth in sorrow and fear and pain, Showed me suffering in a hundred ships, In a thousand ports, and in me. It tells Of smashing surfs when I sweated in the cold Of an anxious watch, perched in the bow As it dashed under cliffs. My feet were cast In icy bands, bound with frost, With frozen chains, and hardship groaned Around my heart. Hunger tore At my sea-weary soul. No man sheltered On the quiet fairness of earth can feel How wretched I was, drifting through winter On an ice-cold sea, whirled in sorrow, Alone in a world blown clear of love, Hung with icicles. The hailstorms flew. The only sound was the roaring sea, The freezing waves. The song of the swan 5 Might serve for pleasure, the cry of the sea-fowl The death-noise of birds instead of laughter, The mewing of gulls instead of mead.
Storms beat on the rocky cliffs and were echoed
By icy-feathered terns and the eagle's screams;
No kinsman could offer comfort there,
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To a soul left drowning in desolation.
And who could believe, knowing but The passion of cities, swelled proud with wine And no taste of misfortune, how often, how wearily, I put myself back on the paths of the sea.
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The horizon, seeking foreigners' homes.
Night would blacken; it would snow from the north; Frost bound the earth and hail would fall, The coldest seeds. And how my heart would begin to beat, knowing once more The salt waves tossing and the towering sea! The time for journeys would come and my soul called me eagerly out, sent me over اول مقطع
This story is true, and it's mine. It describes how the sea took me, moving me back and forth in sadness, fear, and pain. It showed me suffering on many ships, in countless ports, and within myself. It tells of crashing waves when I shivered in the cold, anxiously watching from the bow as it rushed under cliffs. My feet were trapped in icy bands, bound with frost, with frozen chains, and hardship weighed heavily on my heart. Hunger tore at my sea-weary soul. No man on the peaceful earth can understand how miserable I was, drifting through winter on an ice-cold sea, tossed in sorrow, alone in a world stripped of love, covered with icicles. The hailstorms flew. The only sound was the roaring sea, the freezing waves. The swan's song might bring pleasure, the cry of the sea-birds the sound of death instead of laughter, the gulls' cries instead of mead. Storms battered the rocky cliffs and were echoed by icy-feathered terns and the eagle's screams; no family could offer comfort there, to a soul left drowning in loneliness.
And who could believe, knowing only the passion of cities, filled with pride and wine and no taste of hardship, how often, how wearily, I returned to the sea's paths.
The horizon, seeking foreign homes. Night would darken; snow would fall from the north; frost bound the earth and hail would fall, the coldest seeds. And how my heart would start to beat, knowing once more the salt waves tossing and the towering sea! The time for journeys would come and my soul called me eagerly out, sending me over the sea.