SONG OF THE ABSENT BOATMAN

How sad is the night,
The night is so sad;
There isn‘t a star in the sky....
Row, row, row.

The black woman of my soul,
while I toil in the sea,
bathed in sweat for her,
What is she doing? What is she doing?

Maybe for her beloved zambo
painfully she will sigh,
or maybe she doesn‘t even remember me....
Cry! Cry! Cry!

Females are like everything
on the face of this disgraced earth;
with cunning one gets the fish
From the sea, from the sea!...

How dark is the night,
The night is so dark;
[absence is not cured that way]
Row, row, row...