Владимир Чистиков, Александр Фролов Ship Of Memory

Long time ago there was a man
Who caught the fish in the angry sea.
Day after day he left the land
On a little boat in a rushing stream.

The strong wind flung a little ship
And high waves rose it to the sun.
All salted nets cracked from the strain
Like grinding teeth of ever young.

Songs of storm
Sang the Syrens.
Sounds of horn
Broke the silence.
Voiceless man
With a heavy look
Hung the bait
On the hook.

Cold screams of stars above the head
Made water black and human mad
Like secret box of abysmal sea
Kept deepest darks without key.

The man rose up a heavy look.
He saw the lightings on the crooks
Of the horizon and the thunder
Roars like Revelation of the Holy Book.

He was the toy of fate.
Did he understand?
Heavy waters fell
On the lifeless sands.
Shreds of salted nets are
Scattered along the shore.
Shipwreck of memory
Keep the Highest Law

One told the stars
Are the souls of the dead.
Their twinkling songs
Makes us always very sad.

Do you believe the words
That breeze is whispering?
The wreck of fisher's board
Float fast rushing stream.