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!
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Author:
Ksey_Gan (
Offline) - Published: May 14th, 2025 13:59
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 7
Offline)
Comments1
We all at times long for the storm. A most wonderful metaphor in this poem
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