The Mariner

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A room that is doubtless in an ancient castle and that appears to be round. At its center, on a bier, a coffin holding a maiden in white. Four candles at the corners. On the right, almost directly facing whomever imagines the room, a single window, tall and narrow, through which can be seen, between two distant mountains, a small patch of ocean. Near the window three maidens hold a wake.

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The first is seated facing the window, her back toward the right rear candle. The other two are seated on either side of the window. There are no clocks around. It should be morning before long. First: Perhaps. Sometimes it trembles, sometimes it flares to a brighter yellow, sometimes it pales.

The Mariner

But do we know, sisters, why anything happens? Speaking is so sad! Such a false way of forgetting ourselves! What if we were to go for a walk? Second: This whole country is so sad There, as evening fell, I would sit by my window and weave. The window looked out on the ocean, and sometimes you could see an island in the distance And from this window—the only one with a view of the ocean—you can see so little of it!

Is the sea of other countries beautiful? Second: Only the sea of other countries is beautiful.

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But this way, with no clocks, everything is so remote and mysterious! The night belongs more to itself Who knows if we could speak like this if we knew what time it was? First: Sister, everything in me is sad—a December of the soul I know you can see mountains in the distance I was happy beyond those mountains, once I was little. I gathered flowers all day, and before falling asleep asked that they not be taken from me This could have happened a long way from here When will dawn come? Only life can harm us That would be a gesture, and every gesture interrupts a dream First: We decided not to In the light of day, dreams become dormant The past is nothing but a dream If I watch the present closely, it seems already past So what is any given thing?

What is its passing like? What, from the inside, is the manner of its passing? Oh, let us speak, my sisters, let us speak out loud, with one voice The silence is beginning to take shape, to become a thing I feel it enveloping me like a cloud Oh, speak, speak!

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Second: Why? I have to struggle to believe I can see you in order to actually see you This warm air makes me cold inside, in that region that borders the spirit Crosses her hands over her knees. Just a little while ago, while not thinking of anything, I was thinking of my past.

The Mariner Episode 19: Just Another Night at Sea

The pasts of marvelous people who never existed Why did it flow, and why there? Why not farther away, or nearer? Is there any reason for anything to be as it is? Second: Hands are neither true nor real They are mysteries that inhabit our lives Sometimes when I look at my hands, I fear God What are they tilting toward? What a pity if anyone could answer! Always this distance in my soul Perhaps because, as a little girl, I used to run after waves on the beach.

I took life by the hand among rocks, at low tide, when it seemed that the sea had folded its arms across its chest and gone to sleep like an angel statue, so that no one would ever look at it again. But I really must have lived on the coast I love anything that moves like waves There are waves in my soul I rock when I walk They must have some stone secret they refuse to reveal If I were able to stop seeing mountains by leaning out of this window, someone would for a moment lean out of my soul, someone in whom I could feel happy First: As for me, I love mountains On this side of all mountains, life is always ugly Everything there was long and happy, like the song of two birds, one on each side of the path The forest had no clearings but our thoughts And in our dreams, the trees cast onto the ground a calm other than their shade Second: I lived among rocks and watched the sea The hem of my skirt was cool and salty against my bare legs I was small and wild In the present I seem to be asleep Speak to me of fairies.

The sea was too large to make us think of them In life, being small is a comfort Were you happy, sister? Besides, my past all happened in the shade The trees lived it more than I It never fully arrived, nor did I expect it to I speak, and I think about this in my throat, and my words resemble people I have a fear larger than myself Just living seems hard when we recognize it as that Speak, then, without realizing you exist Third: Whoever I once was no longer recalls who I am What a poor, happy creature I was! I lived among shadows of branches; everything in my soul is a trembling leaf.

When I walk in the sun my shadow is cool. I spent my fugitive days by fountains, in which I dipped the calm tips of my fingers while dreaming of living When I smiled, my teeth were mysteries in the water That smile was theirs alone, apart from me Whenever I smiled, it was for no reason Speak to me of death, of the end of everything, to give me a reason to remember Why do we have to talk? A song—when sung at night—is a happy, fearless person suddenly entering the room, warming it and consoling us I could sing you a song we used to sing in the house of my past.

And then my entire past becomes another, and I mourn the dead life I carry with me but have never lived. First: Soon it will be morning Life wants it that way.


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Outside the house where I was born there was a lake. Remembering it is like not being able to remember anything Who knows why I say this and whether it was I who lived what I remember? Second: We are sad when we dream by the sea When the wave spreads and the foam hisses, it seems at least a thousand voices speak The foam seems novel only to those who judge it as one thing Everything is many, and we know nothing Would you like me to tell you the story of what I was dreaming by the sea? First: You can tell it, sister, but nothing in us needs to hear you tell it Tell it only after altering it It must have been like this Then it vanished When I returned to myself, I saw that I already contained this dream First: From the window I can see a ship in the distance.

Second: No, sister—the one you see is bound for some harbor First: Why do you answer so sharply? It could be But I saw no ship from the window I wanted to see one, and I spoke to avoid suffering Tell us now what you were dreaming by the sea Second: I was dreaming of a mariner who was lost on a distant island On this island there were a few stiff palms, vague birds flitting among them The mariner had lived there since his shipwreck Every hour he built in his dreams this false homeland, never ceasing to dream, by day in the brief shade of the great palms that cast their beaked images on the hot sand, and by night stretched on his back on the beach, heedless of the stars.

First: May there never have been a tree that cast on my outstretched hands the shadow of a dream like that one! Third: Let her speak She knows words the sirens taught her Speak, my sister, speak Second: For years and years, day after day, the mariner, in one continuous dream, constructed his new native land Each day he added an imagined stone to his impossible edifice Soon he had a country already many times traversed.

Life is always watching us. Every hour is the mother of dreams, but we must not be aware of that When I talk too much I begin to separate from myself and hear myself talk. I pity myself and feel my heart too sharply. Then I have this hysterical desire to take it in my arms and rock it like a baby Look: the horizon is paling Do I need to tell you any more of my dream? First: Yes, sister, keep going The day never breaks when you lay your head on the breast of dreamed hours I love calling into the Mariner for a quick lunch. Food is always delicious but their curry is usually what I end up ordering its definitely a favorite of mine!

Quick friendly service. This lively pub took its theme to the max and the result is wonderful! The decor is definitely maritime and the crowd was friendly and fun. One of my top pub picks in Drogheda! For the best breakfast in Drogheda go to the Mariner, everything on the plate is cooked from scratch " no re-heating like other establishments" very friendly staff Lisa and Diane always available to cater for your needs.

Out on a Sunday drive, happened upon The Mariner when parking the car. Rugby on the massive screen, friendly staff, lovely lasagna n great big pot of tea. Just what we needed. Will be back again. Great pub grub. Very reasonable prices. Best burger in town. Go visit The Mariner you will not be disappointed.

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TripAdvisor gives a Certificate of Excellence to accommodations, attractions and restaurants that consistently earn great reviews from travellers. Ratings and reviews 4. Certificate of Excellence , Winner. Irish, Bar, Pub. Lunch, Brunch, Breakfast, Dinner. View all details features, about. Location and contact. Is this a fast food place? Yes No Unsure. Does this restaurant offer free wifi? Does this restaurant offer table service? Is this restaurant wheelchair accessible? Is this restaurant appropriate for Kids? Is this restaurant good for large groups? Is this an European restaurant?

The Mariner, Drogheda

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