The old Captain.

[Kitosdad]

Again, no apologies for resurrecting my previously posted story, as I'm sure many of our newer members have not read it. Enjoy.
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The quayside pub was packed, as usual, and I had to elbow my way to the bar to order a drink.
The air was thick with smoke, but mingled within the dense blanket of exhaled smoke was the unmistakable, pungent aroma, of "his" pipe.

"He" sat in his usual window seat. All the better to watch the ships that sailed slowly past on their way out to sea, or back to a safe berth in the harbour.
Everyone called him Captain, but truth be known, he had never captained a single vessel in his entire life.

He was seventy years old and long since retired from seafaring, but he was the most interesting of men.
His tales were the stuff of legend, and his glass was never allowed to go empty whilst he was in full-flow with one of his many tales.

He'd manned whaling ships, tramp steamers and tugs, and each tale he told was the absolute truth, therefore everyone wished it to continue to its climax.
He was a wonderful storyteller and never ever seemed to run out of new adventures to relate.

Every man in the bar admired, and secretly feared him, for he had a violent temper, and it was well known that he had walked away unscathed from a multiple of dockside brawls.
Definitely a man to be wary of.

He feared only one person in the world.
That was his wife Sarah.

Sarah and he had been married for fifty years, and he loved her with all of his heart. They had never once quarrelled in all of those years, because he knew, above all other things, that she loved him deeply in return, and he would never say a word to hurt her in any way.

He had had an unhappy childhood and he recognised love when it came his way.
His Sarah was a beauty, and he would wonder until his dying day just what she had seen in him as a young man. He wasn't good-looking.
In fact some, behind his back, would say he was really ugly and dumb.

But his Sarah, she had recognised immediately that here was a man on whom she would be able to depend for the whole of her life, and she'd loved him from the very first moment of their meeting.

They had no children, more is the pity, so they had just accepted that that was the way it would be, and had loved each other even more deeply.
His only other love was the ocean, but this would never be a contender for his love of Sarah.

Every day he walked slowly to the quayside tavern and "his" seat by the window was always vacant.
No-one cared, or dared, to occupy it, even if he was late in arriving and the tavern was packed, "his" seat was always vacant.

Each evening at 9.00 p.m. promptly the door of the tavern would open, and Sarah would be standing there in the doorway.
She would glare at him demandingly, and he would stare back defiantly, but in each pair of eyes was the sparkle of love and respect.

He would down his drink and stand slowly and stretch his arms to the heavens.
"Well me'boys, time I was in me' hammock," he would bellow, and an avenue would be made for him through the crowded bar.
Sarah would allow him to pass through the open doorway, and then she would deliver a broad wink to the assembled mariners drinking there.

That was the night he died in his sleep, and Sarah came to the tavern to inform everyone there. She never cried or showed any sign of grief, but the light had gone from her eyes.
Things would never be the same for her, nor for the crowd in the bar.

To this very day "his" chair has never been sat in by a single person. Everyone knows he is still sitting there , looking out of the window, watching the ships go by.

Kitos.
_________________
Keep it simple ... Keep it interesting.

[SkiIucK]

I remember that one. Pretty good.

[Beeesneees]

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By request then... but don't say I didn't warn you!

I'm sorry if I don't do your favourite story justice, Kitos... especially as I also read about the inspiration behind it.
_________________
Cheers m' dears!

[Kitosdad]

Good morning Bev. You are a born story teller.Even though I wrote this short story, I couldn't imagine anyone reading it better than that. It brought a tear to my old eyes.
Thank you so much for finding the time to entertain us with your wonderful narration.
_________________
Keep it simple ... Keep it interesting.

[Beeesneees]

Of course, someone as supportive as you would say that, but thank you.
It's obviously easier for me than for all those wonderful learners who make such efforts to read your work aloud. I'd like to take this opportunity to praise their fabulous interpretations.
_________________
Cheers m' dears!

[Lubov]

Good morning dear Kitos! According to my taste this story is one of the best that I have read on the forum. Thank you very much that you let us to get acquainted with it:)

Hello Bee! It was nice of you to read the story aloud. You are a wonderful narrator :)
_________________
Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. The important thing is not to stop questioning.
Albert Einstein

[Kati Svaby]

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Dear Bez,

This morning I listened again to the old captain. He was 70 year-old than me. He loved his wife with all his heart.

My loved husband tomorrow goes to hospital for an operation. I can't express how much I am shy and I am overcome by fear. I wrote to my granddaughter that I should accept the unacceptable.

Before yesterday we had been in our country house. My neighbour came to see me. She told me how happy she is because the catholic priest passed over his ancestor's names. And she enumerated them. I told her:you reminds me By the Danube poem. As she doesn't have a computer I asked her: Do you want to listen the poem? And she wanted. I looked for on the You Tube and we were listening to it. And once I noticed myself that I am crying. I never cried when I heard this poem but now it meant to me an other meaning.

I sent the poem to my grand-daughter for that read out on the You Tube. This is a translation but successfully conveys the intention of the author.

Attila Jozsef: By the Danube
1.
As I sat on the bottom step of the wharf,
A melon-rind flowed by with the current;
Wrapped in my fate I hardly heard the chatter
Of the surface, while the deep was silent.
As if my own heart had opened its gate:
The Danube was turbulent, wise and great.

Like a man muscles when hard at his toil,
Hammering, digging, leaning on the spade,
So bulged and relaxed and contracted again
Each single movement, each and every wave.
It rocked me like mother for a time
As washed and washed the city's filth and grime.

And the rain began to fall but then it stopped
Just as if it couldn't have mattered less,
And like one watching the long rain from a cave,
I gazed away into the nothingness.
Like grey, endless rain from the skies overcast.
So fell drably all that was bright: the past.

But the Danube flowed on. And the sprightly waves
In playful gaiety laughed me again,
Like a child on his prolific mother's knee,
While other thoughts were racing through her brain.
They trembled in Time's flow and in its wake,
Like in a graveyard tottering tomb-stones shake.

2.
I am he who for a hundred thousand year
Has gazed on what he now sees the first time.
One brief moment and, fulfilled all time appears
In a hundred thousand forbears eyes and time.

I see what they could not for their daily toil,
Killing, kissing as duty dictated,
And they, who have descended into matter,
See what I do not, if truth be stated.

We know of each other like sorrow and joy,
Theirs is the present and mine is the past;
We write a poem, they're holding my pencil
And I feel them and recall them at last.

While there is life there is hope.

Regards:
Kati
_________________
We always deceive ourselves twice about the people we love - first to their advantage, then to their disadvantage.

[Kati Svaby]

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Dear Bez,

I am so scattered that I omitted the last part of this poem whereas because of this part came this poem into my mind.
I don't want to excuse myself because : NO Excuse.

I know very well this poem in Hungarian but when I write in English there is some similarity but it is an other poem.

Jozsef Attila: At the Danube

As I sat on the bottom of the wharf,
A melon-rind flowed by with the current;
Wrapped in my fate I hardly heard chatter
Of the surface, while the deep was silent.
As if my own heart had opened its gate:
The Danube was turbulent, wise and great.

Like a man's muscles when hard at his toil,
Hammering, digging, leaning on the spade,
So bulged and relaxed and contracted again
Each single movement, each and every wave.
It rocked me like my mother for time
And washed and washed the city's filth and grime.

And the rain began to fall but than stopped
Just as if it couldn't have mattered less,
And like one watching the long rain from a cave,
I gazed away into the nothingness.
Like grey, endless rain from the skies overcast,
So fell drably all that was bright: the past.

But the Danube flowed on. And the sprightly waves
In playful gaiety laughed at me again,
Like a child on his prolific mother's knee,
While other thoughts were racing through her brain.
They trembled in Time's flow and in its wake,
Like in a graveyard tottering tomb-stones shake.

I am he who for a hundred thousand year
Has gazed on what he now sees the first time.
One brief moment and, fulfilled, all time appears
In a hundred thousand forbear's eyes and time.

I see what they could not for their daily toil,
Killing, kissing as duty dictated,
And they, who have descended into matter,
See what I do not, if truth be stated.

We know of each other like sorrow and joy,
Theirs is the present and mine the past;
We write a poem, they are holding my pencil
And I feel them and recall them at last.

My mother was Cumanian my father
Half-Szekler, half-Rumanian or whole.
From my mother's lips sweet was the morsel,
And from my father's lips the truth was gold.
When I stir, they are embracing each other;
It makes me sad. This is mortality.
This, too, I am made of. And I hear their words:
"Just wait till are gone..." they speak to me.

So their words speak to me for now they am I,
Despite my weaknesses makes me strong.
For I am more than most, back to the first cell
To every ancestor I still belong.
Shaped my father and mother into whole,
My father and mother then in turn divide
And so I have become one single soul.

I am the world, all that is past exists:
Men are fighting men with renewed anguish.
Dead conquerors ride to victory with me
And I feel the torment of the vanquished.
Arpad and Zalan, Werboczi and Dozsa,
Turks, and Tartars, Slovaks, Rumanians
Fill my heart which owes this past a calm future
As our great debt, today's Hungarians.

I want to work. For it is battle enough
Having a past such as this to confess.
In the Danube's waves past, present and future
Are all embraced in a soft caress.
The great battle which our ancestors once fought
Resolves into peace through the memories,
And settle as last our communal affairs
Remains our task and none too small it is.

Regards:
Kati
_________________
We always deceive ourselves twice about the people we love - first to their advantage, then to their disadvantage.

[Beeesneees]

Thank you for taking the trouble to translate and share that lovely poem, Kati.
It is very touching, particularly right now.
I hope your husband's health improves and that you both have many more happy years together.
_________________
Cheers m' dears!

[Kati Svaby]

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Dear Bez,

This isn't me who translated this poem. I found two translations in the Net . I prefer this one to the other one.

I told you that I sent the both to my grand-daughter for that she could read out on the You Tube. She has a talent for acting. When she was two-year old she used to be stand in front of the mirror and she performed what she had watched in the video. Now she is 17 year-old and her school performed a play and she was the protagonist.

She doesn't want to be an actor but a mathematician.

I was indignant at seeing there isn't English recitation of Hungarian poets. We have and used to have very good poets, we have rather good translations but there isn't Hungarian actors who dare recite these beautiful poems.Because they speak very beautifully in Hungarian but in English unfortunately not.

I thought that my grand-daughter would be able to bridge this gap.

I just came home from the hospital. The operation will be tomorrow. Since tomorrow I will be in the hospital with him. He is over 76 and his lungs are very diseased. The worst is to see the doctors also are afraid of the operation. But now they chose the lesser of two evils.

Thanks for your answer:
Kati
_________________
We always deceive ourselves twice about the people we love - first to their advantage, then to their disadvantage.

[Beeesneees]

MY best wishes and prayers are with you both, Kati.
_________________
Cheers m' dears!

[Kati Svaby]

Hello Bez,

Many thanks. This morning after my letter to you our family doctor phoned me and she was reassuring and told me that his immune system is very good and she hopes that everything will be okay. Let it be so!

Good night:
Kati
_________________
We always deceive ourselves twice about the people we love - first to their advantage, then to their disadvantage.

[Beeesneees]

That's good news :)
_________________
Cheers m' dears!

[Ipanema1]

absolutely !