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Our Father Sea who are not in heaven
and enclose the borders
of the island and of the world
hallowed be thy salt
hallowed be your depth.
Receive the crowded boats
with no course over your waves
the fishermen sailing all night long
their nets dropped among your creatures
who came back in the morning
with the catch of the rescued shipwrecks.
Our Father Sea who are not in heaven
at dawn you get the color of the grain
at sunset you get the color of the grapes
we have sowed you with drowned people
more than in any other storming age.
Our Father Sea who are not in heaven
you are fairer than the mainland
also when you raise waves like walls
then you drop them to the carpet.
Take care of the visits, of the lives
fallen as leaves on the alley
be an autumn for them
be a caress, a hug, a kiss on the brow
of mom and dad before the leaving son.
–
Erri De Luca
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Watercolor; Berlin, 2019
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