Dancing are the ships
to the sound of war,
over the great deep blue
with the rhythm of the oars
Sparkling are the furrows that follow them,
reddish are the skies, observing the waterfield,
some flocks of birds escaping
from these war scene,
soldiers defending their lands and kin
The masts are crackling at night
slamming each other with violence,
avoidance manoeuvres mixed
with the roaring of cannons thunders
And the blowing wind on the sails
Two graveyards made of wood and blood
are floating as swells swing,
drifting guts all over the deck
that made men fall on their necks,
dancing are the ships
now on the reddish great blue,
the Tides of Death are swallowing
pieces of flesh, steel and wood
Swords are cutting arms and ropes,
men screaming out in pain,
gunpowder burning sails and hair
as war stand still at night
Sparkling are the furrows that follow them,
reddish are the skies, observing the waterfield
Two graveyards made of wood and blood
are floating as swells swing,
fighting men all over the deck,
dying together with honour and pride,
til the last man falls into the abyss of ocean
feeling his life escaping through his throat.