"It is in its pursuit" -- they say.
Is this the only way, I wonder.
Are there greater riches to plunder
Without weathering the hull
To be torn asunder?

"No victory without strife" -- ?
Yet I feel joy with you, my wife.
Although we both settled for less,
When we merged our family crests,
We are both comfortable and in love.
The solitary sailor shall decree
To always want and need more
Is a flagrant disease.

My happiness will never cease.
Even when these creases
Finish meandering across my wasted body,
My soul will be a vessel of my love for you.
Evidence that our happiness was pure and true.