Bright white, a lonely sail is gleaming
Swathed in the distant azure haze...
What does it seek, far from its homeland?
What did it leave in long-gone days?
The waves play while the wind is whistling,
The mast is creaking as it sways…
Alas! This sail won’t seek contentment,
Nor from contentment speed away.
But gliding through the sky-blue ripples,
Beneath a cloud’s sun-gilded fleece,
The sail, rebellious, craves a tempest,
As if in tempests there is peace!
Парус. Лермонтов. To English
© Copyright: Яна Кане, 2022
Свидетельство о публикации №122022800998
Свидетельство о публикации №122022800998
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