|Evening. Seashore. A sighing wind. Majestic waves roar. A storm is near. A black barque, Stranger to charm, batters the shore. Stranger to the pure charms of joy, A barque of yearning, a barque of trouble quits the shore to battle the storm, Searching for a palace of bright dreams. It flies along the shore, it flies along the sea, Surrendering to the will of the waves. A matte moon observes it, a moon full of bitter sorrow. The evening is dead. The night blackens. The sea rumbles. The gloom deepens. The barque of yearning is seized by darkness. The storm howls in the watery depths.
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