The fog hides the distant shore.
Boat runs - much bolder and.
Who is on the steering wheel - a great and love
You sing and stroking silk curls?
I look into the distance without a will and without captivity,
My beach is empty, but I see clearly -
Sings and shines pink foam,
In the rays of dawn creeping Rook.
And heed the cry of longing and passionate,
I put no, and look more nemey.
And on the steering wheel - and a great lover
You sing and stroking silk curls.
12 January 1902
