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Sail Lonely white sail In sea mist blue!.. What he seeks in the distant country? What he threw at the edge of native?.. Play waves - the wind whistles, And the mast bends and skripit... Alas! he is not looking for happiness And not from happiness runs! Underneath a jet of bright blue, Above him, a ray of Golden sun... And he, rebellious, asks storm, As if in storms is the rest!