Is tossed about in the ocean foam.
The cloud has raised, the sky grows dark,
We are struggling away alone;
We struggle and fight to the very last.
Our ship of life is tempest tossed,
And ere the Golden Harbor’s passed
Our life is spent, our joy is lost.
So this is life that we are given!
For me, I’ll simply heave a sigh
And say that it’s not worth the living,