Translated by A. Z. Foreman - Self-Courtesy lyrics

I was a boat, and well at anchor In a pink fishing village in Maine- And not some woodchip adrift and pale On the Bronx's blackheart waves. Nailed to a flat plain coffee-shop back here Sipping cola through a straw, I'm free To ignore my patches. Here at least I can show myself some courtesy. Eyes full of a suspicious cloud, In Jerusalem I disavowed My title of nobility. Here in New York I can be A threadbare jacket hanging on my hanger.