Wind, wind, wind on the infinite sea,
Whispering your prophecies all night long …
What do the grey waves want from me?
What do they say in their lonely song?
When I was young, the waters were green,
What I loved was beauty, the crushing white!
But now I’m an old poet. O wind, give me mercy
And let me remember my dreams this night!
The wind is persuasive, it turns itself to me
And sighs at my empty ship under its breath …
Beauty the dream will die with the dreamer,
I shall have no dreams, but I shall have death.