ode’s Reviews > La ballata del vecchio marinaio > Status Update

All in a hot and copper sky,
the bloody Sun, at noon,
right up above the mast did stand
no bigger than the Moon.

Day after day, day after day,
we stuck, nor breath nor motion;
as idle as a painted ship
upon a painted ocean.

(And the Albatross begins to be avenged.)

Water, water, every where,
and all the boards did shrink;
water, water, every where,
nor any drop to drink.