A sail, shown white and lonely, stations
At sea in a bluish hazy band!..
What does it seek in foreign nations?
What has it left in its homeland?..

The wind is high, the waves are playing,
The mast on board both bends and scrapes;
Alas! It’s not for luck its praying,
Nor from its fortune it escapes!

Beneath it, sky-blue squirts are foaming,
Above it, golden ray's release...
But it, rebellious, wants storm's roaming,
As if a storm might bring forth peace!