A white and lonely sail is flickering Across the blue fog of the sea What does he seek in far-off distance? What did he leave in home country? The waves are playing - wind is whistling, The mast of ship does bend and moan.. Alas - happiness he's not seeking Nor does from happiness he run. Beneath him water's light as azure, Above him sun's rays, gold and warm.. But he, rebellious, storm is seeking, As if there's calm inside the storm! By Mikhail Lermontov Translated from Russian by Ilya Shambat
