Leave me in my distance.
January unfailing. January innocent.
But dark as deserted beach,
A walk in the sea ships.
Sometimes sail near the counter,
And ignited the dream;
And so, over the endless expanse
The soul of a wonderful busy.
But the distance is deserted and quiet -
And I'm still the same - at the helm,
And I sing, still neatly,
Native dream ship.
So leave will sail the stormy
foreign, not your fate:
Again and again in the silence of the azure
I will weep for thee.
August 1905
