See how the carved ships sail,
not in legions, but alone-
their lacquered bows shining,
their scarves full-blown.
Note how they primp and pose,
as the white waves whisper
and the air goes frail.
'The Sea is a lady
who loves to sing,
and all of her songs
have sail'.
Fling with your arm a pale,
thin shell, the color of a bone.
Sing with your heart
to soothe all spite,
in your voice
so sand-pebble light.
'The Sea is a lady
who loves to sing,
and all of her songs
have sail'.