What you do long for,
That will have the light...
What you do sail to,
That will have the sight,
Will have a talk, though about nothing...
The life is opened with key, sometimes.
But where are the doors?
You couldn't ever find...
Where is the house?
For years we are going...
But all - in vain...
And better then to leave the way,
Having gathered millions of reasons
To stop one day,
To have an end...
We sail, and sail, and sail,
Following that far ship...
You see? There's our bay...
Our house there...
Take key... And open it qiuckly...
Lyudmila Purgina's Other Poems
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