A Jamaican Farewell
Gentle breeze moves white clouds, softly
Greeting the morning sun, birds fly slowly
Sunray brightens the mountain range, partly misty
Dots of green mangroves, decorate beaches, sandy
Weathered buoys, anchored cargo ships, passed by a fishing boat
Moving slowly in the Kingston Harbour, a little over a knot
Passing Port Royal, lacking its past glory, now lazy and quiet
Our destination not that clear on the horizon, yet
Following his yacht obediently, 17 other yachts and boats
A very special journey for many family, friends and fans
Passing Lime Quay, Maiden Quay and a few other islets
All anchoring to make a big circle of white boats
Opening prayer by the priest, silence is broken, gracefully
Hugging crying members of the close family, emotionally
Flowers and ashes, scattered on gentle waves, respectfully
A round of short and sweet to celebrate a vibrant life, lovingly
All boats toot horns in unison, in one loud voice
A plane passes through, a helicopter circles adding to the noise
Music he loved, played one after the other, by choice
“Fly Robin, fly… Fly Robin, fly…”, a favourite choice
We will be back in town, later today in a heavy-hearted daze
Leaving him behind, alone, but with plenty of space
Without doubt, now his soul has gone up to a holy place
Ashes gone down, beneath the Caribbean Sea, to a final resting place
I Am Not Sorry
Maybe it is wrong to fix my gaze on you,
But I am not going to apologise for staring.
I do not often see fascinating women such as you,
And I am not sorry to love you at first glance.
It feels slightly improper to want your love so badly,
But, darling, I am not sorry I do.
I cannot stand next to you and not tell you hello.
You are too conspicuous to ignore.
I just could not walk away and not ask you your name.
And I am not sorry I introduced myself to you.
I admire your modesty and your good posture,
And so I am making an impulsive approach.
I am not sorry for thinking you might love me,
But it would be too bad if I have the wrong impression.
You are the kind of woman that turns me on,
And I am not sorry if I am going too far.
It does not matter that we have not met before;
Everybody meets somewhere, sometime, somehow.
Though I may not get the chance to see you again,
I am not sorry I said nice things to you.