We’re drifting, bobbing, waves are turning,
Each to own and other leaving.
How can each to other staying,
Tis for naught this way to seek.
Drifting, bobbing away away,
Some a course direct can make,
A meeting for to orchestrate.
These ones are few, alas this fact.
For I am one, and few have met.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem