O little island, do please stay,
You have one life, no more, no more,
By breaking in the waves, the waves,
You still will reach the ocean floor.
Don't give those ships a berth, a berth,
Let them drift past you in a squall,
They can't have any of your earth,
For you are still too small, too small.
Don't sneakily attempt, attempt,
To stretch your shore with washed up stone!
If you become a continent,
Where will the submarines call home?
The waves know you like their own hand,
The wind shows you your ABCs,
You are the distant call of every land,
In this the desert of the sea.
From Russian by Jemmie Rann (London)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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