Fishermen at Sea

Are we still afloat in the wide open sea
Can we see one’s fellow not too far from one’s sight
Can you still reach my hand with some accuracy
Will your shoulder by mine lean against this long night

Under the dark sky let us raise our tempests
We must be brave together to form a family
The honour is nothing but a postponed conquest
Can we talk in silence to discard felony

Hush hush in the slip of the boat in the sea
Under the coal dark sky where no birds ever flew
Let us raise our soul to the last harmony
Let us raise our voice to the song ever new

My old man was a barber he made wigs we had feasts
With no Bethlehem star mother was not made for earth
To help her in her room no wise men from the East
Ever came to remove the burden to give birth

Some of us are just mad to death
We flow in an oyster some of us just pretend
Some of us want to swim until they’re out of depth
But fishermen at sea have no fear to extend

illustration : William Turner, Fishermen at Sea, 1796.