On the fourth of March I left the village
And went to Athens
From there I would come here
And I would have a fine time
My cabin was down in the depths
On the Queen Frederica
Three others and myself
Locked in like mice
We stopped in Naples
It was the first stop
Up to there we had a good time
It still hadn’t hit us yet
When we left Gibraltar
Out on the open waters
Very few of us remained standing
The place filled with vomit
When we arrived in Halifax
On the thirteenth of March
We felt it immediately
The cold of Canada
There, there was everything good
Even grapes
But they were very expensive
We wet our lips with water
At Union Station we got off
Unwashed, worn out
I saw my uncle coming
With a big overcoat
I ran and hugged him
With great longing
I remember asking him
If he had a comb
From the collection's own note: the images with these poems are AI-created artistic renderings by the source, not historical photographs.