W E SHALL watch its final plunge from afar,
W keeping sinews strong and our minds free
of its sea-soaked rot. We shall be everywhere
when faces turn, fresh-eyed, to the wind:
not here, where decay is constant, but on shores
that beckon as this antique vessel dies.
I do not mean we will desert,
but no ship, sinking, is worth salvaging
in seas where masts are numerous and men are
enough to board them, steer them to port.
We shall be here only to save the living cargo,
carry it untouched to greener shores,
while the old vessel, having served its lords,
transporting human vassals and rich plunder,
sinks upon the water, empty, with only
rats running, panic-driven, on its decks;
finally surrenders to the cleansing sea,
weighted with age and its rusty slave chains.
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