Very tranquil lies the sea,
Rowers to your places move:
Even this is the ship of love.
While new songs the sirens sing
To their cadence you shall row,
Sorrow to your oars shall cling,
And in sadness and in woe
New sighs from old sighs shall grow,
And more griefs your spirit prove:
Even this is the ship of love.
And as thus you row distressed,
Fresh distresses shall you find,
Seas of danger and unrest,
Storms and buffeting of wind;
Yet content will in your mind
Reign all pain and grief above:
Even this is the ship of love.
When with rowing and with toil
All your strength is wellnigh spent,
You shall lose your hope's fair spoil:
The port whither your course was bent.
Though these ills be surely sent,
Rowers to your places move:
For this, even this, is the ship of love.
