By the sea
Hans Gál
At the other side of the wooden wall of the ship
where my dreaming head is lying
the waves are surging, the wild waves;
they are roaring and murmuring
secretly into my ear,
"You bewitched lad.
Your arm is short the sky so wide
and the stars are fastened so securely up there
with golden nails --
pointless longing, pointless sighing,
it would be best if you fell asleep."