The ships will go And lay on their course, But they will come back Through bad weather... It won’t even be A half-year - And I will appear In order to leave again For a half-year. Everyone comes back, Except for the best of friends, Except for the most favorite And devoted of women. Everyone comes back, Except for those whom are needed the most. I do not believe in fate, While I believe in myself even less. But I would sure like to Think, That it is not so That burning ships Will soon go out of Style. I will certainly return Both within my friends, and within dreams... I will certainly sing - And it won’t even be A half-year.
© Peter Struwwel. Translation, ?