The night so fair
Wind so cool
Deep waves of sea
Flow ever on

The stars glimmer
Spreading brightness
On deep blue sea
Reflects
Fair moon
Above the sea

The sky, the sea
Deep blue
Rushing sound
Of waves
Gusting
Wind

The wave’s lapping shore
Tide pulls in
As sun rises
Over peaks
Of blue seas
Shall endure the morn.

October ninth, 1492, was beautiful when we left port, but now the sky feels as black as night. I have'nt seen land for at least two months. Columbus tries to cheer us up; it works maybe for and hour. I long to see home again and my wife and children. It seems we will never see land again. Some men have said they see things creeping among the seaweed. I try not to think about it, but I do. Sometimes I wish I had nver come.