The ship of Death [Vaporul morţii]
Between the water and the clouds was sailing without cease
Astray and with a damaged mast, by bolts of lightning hit;
The waves kept coming one by one, so it could find no peace,
And tossed and wavered while its paunch was cracking bit by bit.
The wind was whistling in the ropes its giant symphony
Ran to and fro and cut huge holes in the unrest below,
Spread everywhere across the sea a bitter irony
With its terrific and wild roars, like a relentless foe.
The gloomy night upon the waves considered it unreal,
On the horizon round and dark a dot and nothing more,
Without a man to give it soul or mind to steer the wheel
To overcome that loud turmoil from surface to the floor.
The passengers and sailor men, decayed, on deck were spread,
Blue brows, lips livid, and clenched fists, eyes motionless and cold,
Five, six, or eight, or even ten; they all were lying dead,
In piles impressive, yellow-green, because were wrapped in mold.
Quick lightnings tore the night apart and made it look like hell,
The sky above the sea was cut by edges of bright flames,
And in zigzags, which hurt the sight with colors blended well,
They hissed and vanished in no time in the unsettled waves.
And for a moment every face would come into the light,
Now of a man that used to live on sea, harassed by breeze,
Now of a youngster with fair hair and virgin lips, so white,
Which stopped before could say their rhymes for suddenly did freeze.
And through the darkness of this hell advanced the ship of death
Tossing its frame, showing its front and then its weary rears,
The morning, near the heaven's gate, was holding its light breath
Soaking its bunch of color shades with big and gloomy tears.
poem by Alexandru Macedonski, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Added by anonym
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
