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Poem	A lot of us were on the bark: Some framed a sail for windy weather, The others strongly and together Moved oars. In silence sunk, Keeping a rudder, strong and clever, The skipper drove the heavy skiff; And I -- with careless belief -- I sang for sailors... . But the stiff Whirl smashed at once the waters' favor... All dead -- the captain and his guard! -- But I, the enigmatic bard, Was thrown to the shore alone. I sing the former anthems, yet, And dry my mantle, torn and wet, In beams of sun under a stone.
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