In the final days of our voyage, we think of the great Southern Ocean and all the denizens thereof. No better summary could be than the simple words of Pablo Neruda, poet laureate of Chile, and his poem, “Ode to the Wandering Albatross.”
Oda a un Albatros Errante
En alta mar navega el viento
dirigido por el albatros:
esta es la nave del albatros:
cruza, desciende, danza, sube,
se suspende en la luz oscura,
toca las torres de la ola,
anida en la hirviente argamasa
del desordenado element
mientras la sal lo condecora
y silba la espuma frenética,
resbala volando el albatross
con sus grandes alas de música
dejando sobre la tormenta
un libro que sigue volando:
es el estatuto del viento
The wind sails the open sea
steered by the albatross;
this is the ship of the albatross;
that glides, falls, dances, climbs,
hangs motionless in the fading light,
touches the waves' towers,
settles down in the disorderly element's
seething mortar
while the salt crowns it with laurels
and the furious foam hisses,
skims the waves
with its great symphonic wings,
leaving above the tempest
a book that flies on forever:
the statute of the wind
