Mikhail Lermontov
The Sail

One white and lonely sail out there,
amidst fog and the ocean’s blue.
What does it seek in distant lands?
What’s amiss in the land it knew?

Waves leap up into whistling wind;
the tall mast bends; the rigging creaks.
This isn’t a flight from trouble —
contentment is not what he seeks.

Splashing spray is brighter than sky,
when sunshine pours from above.
But he, rebellious, seeks the storm,
as if in the storm there were love.

Translated by Frank Beck