A bitter froth travels on a night wave
And pulls back my covers my nightgown
And sets flames on fire around me
Whilst indignantly, my heart still weeps.
He says he is the bane of a white moon
I am what pulled him up from the depths.
I held him like a grain of sand and all too soon
He fell through my hand.
So then I took an Aspin and I began to quiver
Then somewhere on another shore, he was fast asleep
And I was left with little more than nothing
But the feeling of a pirate ghost once lost in my sheets.
A bitter froth travels on a night wave
And pulls back my covers my nightgown
And sets flames on fire around me
Whilst indignantly, my heart still leaps.
I listen to the wind and then I dream of kerosene
It's burning all over me and the gulls
Screaming in wild misery over the wild sea.
They're all looking, looking for the bones of me
Beneath a salty wave, a salty wave on the sea.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
intriguing, Mark, but why did you have to go and take the Aspin?