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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!