From 'Three letters'
To V.
1
And still remembers sighs of oar
My shoulder, so blissfully excited...
Under your look, escaping though,
I surely had thoughts of nothing...
Your movements bashful, timid,
And the rudder, wrongly turned...
To white nights there a great ship
Is sailing as a phantom...
And there in the clear sea
The schooner bodies are seen...
And gold of sunrise fleetly sweeps
The aimless path, the aimless bind-weed...
28 May 1908
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem