A white lonely sail/in the azure dusk of the sea…//What does he seek in the farawy land?/what has he left when leaving home?//The waves dance/the wind is howling,/the mast both bends and creaks//Alas! he seeks no happiness/ it is not happiness he shuns// A stream of blue is uner him/ a ray of gold is up in sky,/ But he, the rebel, asks for storm,/like any storm would bring him peace.
(Lermontov)
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