The wind is free in the dark pine forest.
The moon is phosphorescent on the wandering water.
Chasing each other on the same day.
The fog dispersed into a dancing shape.
A silver seagull slipped from the western sky.
Sometimes it's sails. High, high above the stars.
Or the black cross on the boat.
Loneliness.
Sometimes I wake up in the morning, even my soul is wet.
The sound of the sea came from a distance, and it rang again.
This is the port.
I love you here.
I love you here, and the horizon hides you in vain.
I still love you in these cold things.
Sometimes my kisses board those heavy ships.
Sail from the sea to inaccessible places.
I saw myself forgotten like those old anchors.
The dock was particularly sad when it docked at dusk.
My life is tired and futile hunger.
I like what I don't have. You are so far away.
My boredom is struggling in the slow twilight.
But night came and began to sing to me.
The moon spins the disc of its dreams.
The biggest star looks at me through your eyes.
Because I love you, pine tree in the wind.
Sing your name with their needles.