Морская лихорадка

[avva]

А вот стихотворение Джона Мейсфилда (John Masefield), английского поэта-лауреата, который умер в мае 67-го. Должен признаться, что до чтения Нью-Йорк Таймс я и не подозревал о его существовании.

Sea Fever

I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking,

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.