The sail of a lonely one gleams white
In the blue sea fog as spirit tent!
What is he looking for in a land distant?
What has he abandoned in his native land?..
The waves play slidell - the wind whistles,
And the mast bends, roars and most creaks...
Alas! He does not seek any happiness,
And he does not run from happiness!
Under him a creek brighter than azure,
Above him a ray of golden sun...
But he, rebellious, asks for a storm, sure,
As if there is peace in storms, but none!