Somewhere in the wide ocean
There is a blessed Land, lost to the world,
Clouds pass over it silently
And the tide laps softly at its shore.

Ancient trees bloom there
And arch to form a thick grove,
Into which never penetrated a human word,
Nor a human gaze.

From crimson-red calyces there rises
A curiously sweet, languid breath,
The heavens incline themselves pensively
And, motionless, bushes and shrubs dream.

At the shore a boat is rocking,
The waves lap quietly along its keel.
Whom does it fetch on its wide journey,
Whom does it carry to the blessed destination?

Ah, if the boat were to fetch me
In these anxious, anxious times,
That I might know how to find the way
To the isle of oblivion!