The rain obscures the ships in the bay,
Easter, the crew has nothing to do, sit
in the mess hall waiting for food, only
the cook works on an idle day like this.
After lunch a launch will come, pick up
those who want to go ashore, few will,
it is such a dreary time, empty streets
and seafarers haven´t got umbrellas.
With the main engine shut off, a ship
she sounds, hollow voices have a spooky
echo as the sea slaps against her hull.
Clatter of pots and pans in the galley,
only the cook works on a day like this.
