Mikhail Lermontov

The sail is whitening alone
In blue obscurity of sea:
What did it leave in country own?
What does it want so far to see.

The wind is strong, the mast is creaking,
The wave is playing with the wave ...
But not a fortune is it seeking,
Nor from this fortune is its way.

By it a stream is bright as azure,
By beams of sun it's warmed and blessed
But it is seeking gales as treasure,
As if the tempests give a rest.


© Copyright, 1996
Translated from Russian by Yevgeny Bonver, 1990