The sail is white alone
In the mist of the blue sea!..
What is he looking for in a distant land?
What he threw in his native land?..
Waves play - the wind whistles,
And the mast bends and squeaks ...
Alas! He is not looking for happiness
And does not run from happiness!
Under it is a stream of lighter blue,
Above him a ray of golden sun ...
And he, rebellious, begs for the storm,
As if there is peace in the storms!