10-13-2018, 09:31 PM
(with apologies to John Masefield)
I must go up to the stars again, to the lonely lights in the black,
And all I ask is a tight ship and a star to steer her back;
And the rocket’s kick and the fan’s hum and the radios o'er it,
And a pale kiss on the world’s face, as dawn breaks in orbit.
--=--
... and then inspiration ran out, but I think this much works, and even that is a little long for a media soundbite these days. I really wanted to have "airtight ship" on the second line, but it doesn't match the original meter even if I think the extra beat works better. Feel free to chip in with further adaptation if you've got something good.
I must go up to the stars again, to the lonely lights in the black,
And all I ask is a tight ship and a star to steer her back;
And the rocket’s kick and the fan’s hum and the radios o'er it,
And a pale kiss on the world’s face, as dawn breaks in orbit.
--=--
... and then inspiration ran out, but I think this much works, and even that is a little long for a media soundbite these days. I really wanted to have "airtight ship" on the second line, but it doesn't match the original meter even if I think the extra beat works better. Feel free to chip in with further adaptation if you've got something good.
Sea Fever
By John Masefield
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.
By John Masefield
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.