AT THE END OF THE DAY - Print

AT THE END OF THE DAY

The sound of music is coming, joyfully, through the wooden boards.

I hear my men singing, happy and free, while equally sharing the loot.
They sing for those who have just joined the crew, and for those who have gone away forever.
He who was a slave, now dances frenetically the dances of his native lands.
He who suffered the whip and the miserable wages of the East India Company, now he gorg himself with rum and fills his pockets with doubloons.
He who had been forced to the sea by coercive recruitment, now sails without imposition, by choice, as a pirate.

Because on the seas we want to live like this, unchained, until we will have the chance.

Because that’s all we have left, at the end of the day.