Sail
Lonely white sail
In sea mist blue!..
What he seeks in the distant country?
What he threw at the edge of native?..
Play waves - the wind whistles,
And the mast bends and skripit...
Alas! he is not looking for happiness
And not from happiness runs!
Underneath a jet of bright blue,
Above him, a ray of Golden sun...
And he, rebellious, asks storm,
As if in storms is the rest!