Ocean’s March
Specters of castaway captains
with pipes still between their lips
on the lighted horse of lightning
sunken ships returning
to night’s harbors
the lost crews
standing outside closed doors
waiting
searching their lives silently
holding tropical pictures
azure fields with enormous lilies
and ebony naked women
Those cry and don’t see
But we
who spoke to the sea for hours
we who always retain
on our lips damp deep and young
the voyage’s sweetness
we accept the eternal gifts of death
And when mothers
curse the sea
and when the old captains
walk step by step worrying
in closed rooms
Manolis Aligizakis 