Captain! Captain! ! A century on this sorry stretch,
Still the shore cloaks in the deep of the horizon.
My condolence to our coughing boat.
We sailed and sailed on reoccurring miles
Bearing the clobber of tempered tides.
Captain where forth shall we sight the shore?
We sang stale songs of the sun, sunken in the south.
You’ve snored away our bearing, captain.
Now our boat creaks surfing on crude crest.
When shall we hear the coos of gulls?
And yells of pines,
Tickled by the ocean wind?
I know the shade of hunger and the back of hope;
I was borne, christened and bred on this boat
Captain, we are on this voyage, you said,
To somewhere, I suppose a vegetable coast,
But just faint smell of imaginary soil
For our sail in the knock-out blows of cold.
Captain, look out!
We stand still on a red coloured sea:
The people now seek feeds of their brothers’ flesh
And you sprawl by the wheel savouring our fish.
You must find the shore before sunset.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem