English Rendering
Morning mist and surging clouds spread to join the sky,
The Milky Way fades,a thousand sails dance on high.
It seems as if my soul to God's abode would fly,
And I
Be kindly asked where 1'm going.I reply:
“The road is long,alas!the sun on the decline,
In vain I'm famed for clever poetical line.
The roc soars up to ninety thousand miles and nine.
O wind mine!
Don't stop but carry my boat to three isles divine!