Nobody's Song
Once that tradition becomes fragmented,
Into Islands separated by vast emptiness
Between,
Humans despair.
But a navigator born
Rejoices at the prospect
Of infinite adventure
Between the modern
Scylla and Charybdis
Of eternally moving sensibilities.
Wind in one's face,
One's hand on a rudder,
The sound of strong waves,
Striking against the body of one's barge,
And the falling eye of the sun ahead.
The sirens' ruins forever left behind,
And nothing to hold onto, but
For the fate of a hero.
A faithless fate!
Gods! Here, hear me laugh now...
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