Played in the dining hall for Zorka
My father said
My father said
When I was a child
“To find your fate
My son, go west to the sea.”
A storm is coming.
A storm is coming.
My brother cried
My brother cried
As he dove from our boat
“Farewell my friends
I have seen the face of the sea.”
A storm is blowing.
A storm is blowing.
I told my wife
I told my wife
“Lay me not in this cold earth.”
My body she sailed out
My bones rest upon the breast of the sea.
A storm is calm.
A storm is calm.