
Date of issue: 09.01.2014
Song language: English
The Seafarer |
The sea will wash in but the rocks-jagged ribs |
riding the cloth of foam or a knob or pinnacles |
with gannets- |
are the stubborn man. |
He invites the storm, he lives by it! |
instinct with fears that are not fears but prickles of ecstacy, |
a secret liquor, a fire that inflames his blood to coldness so that |
the rocks seem rather to leap at |
the sea than the sea to envelope them. |
They strain forward to grasp ships or even the |
sky itself that bends down to be torn upon them. |
To which he says, It is I! |
I who am the rocks! |
Without me nothing laughs. |