I’ve heard it said that every person is a fleet of ships
That pushes out from a bay while morning dew still drips.
And so it is with me, but two of my ships cause me pain;
They do not sail properly—indeed, let me explain…
The first is made of bloody meat; the men that row are strong.
They give the fleet its fiery strength, they drum and glide along.
“Duh-dum, duh-dum, duh-dum…” That is their rhythm song.
The second floats above the first, up by the moon it flies;
A wisp of air carves in the clouds its shape against the skies.
The captain is erratic, though this he denies.
But, as I said, these two ships have given me great stress,
For not a year ago they started sailing without rest—
Without my leave! Or my command! Mutiny, I say!
They sought to capture yonder fleet, pulled anchors up, away!
They found the other vessels and then threw their lines aboard,
And there they are, still with that fleet, attached and deeply moored.
They’d sailed so swiftly through a fog, I hadn’t seen them go…
And that is how my heart and thoughts have betrayed me so.