Mikhail Lermontov

A white and lonely sail is flickering
Across the blue fog of the sea
What does he seek in far-off distance?
What did he leave in home country?

The waves are playing - wind is whistling,
The mast of ship does bend and moan..
Alas - happiness he's not seeking 
Nor does from happiness he run.

Beneath him water's light as azure,
Above him sun's rays, gold and warm..
But he, rebellious, storm is seeking,
As if there's calm inside the storm!