The sea wind sways over the endless oceans -
spreads its wings night and day
rises and sinks again
over the desolate swaying floor of the immortal ocean.
Now it is nearly morning
or it is nearly evening
and the ocean wind feels in its face - the land wind.
Clockbuoy toll morning and evening psalms,
the smoke of a coalboat
or the smoke of a tar-burning phoenician ship faces away at the horizons.
The lonely jellyfish who has no history rocks around with
burning blue feet.
It's nearly evening now or morning.