The Sail

The white sail is soaring, lonely,
Far in the blue haze of the sea...
What does it seek in the alien land?
What has it left at home?

Waves are playing, winds are whistling,
The mast is bending, creaking...
Alas! This sailor pursues no happiness
But doesn't run from the happiness either!

The stream below him is lighter than the azure,
Above him are golden rays of the Sun...
But he, rebellious, prays for a storm,
As if there could be peace in storms!

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