By Paul Mirabile
Red-bearded hearty sailors take up their oars,
Singing in high melodious harmony —
Coarse, vigorous staves offered in overt sympathy
To the Sea while their drakkar[1] quits the mossy shores.
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Are those sea-faring Vikings afraid of stormy waters,
Of the lurking dangers beneath the briny black ?
With heaves and hoes never do their muscles slack;
Those long-haired raiders without homes, without borders.
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There are no seas that welcome comfort,
Nor warrior hearts that shun adventure.
Bold are the Viking oarsmen of solitary investiture
For from the bottomless Deep their hearts are wrought.
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[1] Viking boat.
Paul Mirabile is a retired professor of philology now living in France. He has published mostly academic works centred on philology, history, pedagogy and religion. He has also published stories of his travels throughout Asia, where he spent thirty years.
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