The Old Man and the Sea (Chamber version)

He has gone eighty-four days without a fish, And the boy still brings the old man luck and two hands worth of faith. Out beyond the Gulf Stream, beyond the remembered coast, He rows into the current, alone with the line and the lucid ache. He is old and alone, but he is not beaten. The sea gives and the sea takes, and he knows her by heart. But man is not made for defeat. A man can be destroyed but not defeated. He can go on, and go on, and go on. Then the great marlin comes, and the line cuts his palms. He eats the tuna, drinks the water sparingly, speaks to the fish, And to himself in the clean, hard dark: "Fish, I love you and respect you very much." The sun burns down, the stars turn, the pain becomes his company. He measures only the truth of the pull. But man is not made for defeat. A man can be destroyed but not defeated. He can go on, and go on, and go on. Then the sharks come. He lashes with the harpoon, with the knife, with the oar, But they take the meat, strip the wishbone clean. He comes in with the mast on his shoulder, The great fish only a memory of length and grace. But man is not made for defeat. A man can be destroyed but not defeated. He can go on, and go on, and go on. The boy will see the skiff, the scars, the marrow of it, And know that the old man went out and came home by suffering. "Now we must dream about the lions."