The eternal boatman who sails from shore to shore,
Boating his way across listless oceans that roar,
Searching, risking and frisking for lives evermore,
Risking fortunes the way, many lives that he tore.
The boatman who hath conquered defeat,
In the hands of the immortal beneath the sun's feet,
After the gruesome battle whose nectar he hath repeat,
Drunk to the lees while basking in the sun's heat.
Our eternal boatman whose eyes have seen,
Journeymen travel from one world to another unseen,
This distance his feet traverse,
Guiding one life to another foreseen.
Splitting time between centuries so vast,
That time itself holds back until memories last,
Of civilizations and relics from the past,
Until the boatman set sail spreading his mast.
Our boatman whose torch we follow forever,
Leading us into worlds we would understand never,
He holds the secret key to the universe,
And we're just messengers delivering his verse.
When in lifeless forms we call upon the boatman,
And hurries he to narrate our deeds in translation,
Reflecting on our tales from present to past,
Seeking refuge in his shelter at last.
Boating his way across listless oceans that roar,
Searching, risking and frisking for lives evermore,
Risking fortunes the way, many lives that he tore.
The boatman who hath conquered defeat,
In the hands of the immortal beneath the sun's feet,
After the gruesome battle whose nectar he hath repeat,
Drunk to the lees while basking in the sun's heat.
Our eternal boatman whose eyes have seen,
Journeymen travel from one world to another unseen,
This distance his feet traverse,
Guiding one life to another foreseen.
Splitting time between centuries so vast,
That time itself holds back until memories last,
Of civilizations and relics from the past,
Until the boatman set sail spreading his mast.
Our boatman whose torch we follow forever,
Leading us into worlds we would understand never,
He holds the secret key to the universe,
And we're just messengers delivering his verse.
When in lifeless forms we call upon the boatman,
And hurries he to narrate our deeds in translation,
Reflecting on our tales from present to past,
Seeking refuge in his shelter at last.
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