The pale light of the moon
changes with the red of the morning.
The call of the rooster startles the men from
their benches.
Sword and ax into the ramparts,
One last time with a friendly circle.
Everything is stowed away on the kite.
The ropes are tightened again.
A look back and parting words.
The blood of the sacrificial lamb for the favor of the gods.
To a good journey and a healthy return.
The oars dive into the cold sea,
each stroke carries us further out.
The The wind fills the sail,
Words and songs have fallen silent.
In my thoughts I return to my homeland,
The end of the journey remains uncertain.
Whether it will be weeks or years ,
Until we see our homeland again,
Luck is on our side,
The gods remain in our favor.
A storm brings death.
Questions , to which there is no answer.
Every farewell can be the last.
Who knows where the wind will take us
and which of us will stay alive.
Every farewell can be the last.

ENVIAR CORRECCIONES