Phantom Ship Poem by Vladimir Marku
Phantom Ship
The flying Dutch does not call at ports
A phantom roaming over ancient wrinkled seas
Loaded with souls crying for help
Cries which push the sails of the wicked Dutch.
Ah, no, I am the naughty Albanian sailor
In love with the ports with chests full of hope!
Naturally, I insatiably criss cross seas
And back this sailor comes, to rest in ports with longing sick sails.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/1/2024 9:40:17 PM # 1.0.0.1119
