The lonely sail turns white
In the blue sea fog!..
What is he looking for in a distant land?
What did he throw in his native land?..
The waves are playing, the wind is whistling,
And the mast bends and creaks...
Alas! he is not looking for happiness
And he’s not running out of happiness!
Below him is a stream of lighter azure,
Above him is a golden ray of sun...
And he, the rebellious one, asks for a storm,
As if there is peace in the storms!

The search for peace in the midst of chaos. 🌊☀️