Each ship comes to a dock, waits and then sails away.
But all ships still come back through rains, thunder and scare.
A short year would pass, I’d return if you wait:
I’d come back just to leave - I’d come back and then leave for a year.

Everybody comes back. Only best friends are lost.
The most fateful, most loved women would, alas, go.
Everybody comes back except whom we need most:
I don’t trust my grim fate... And myself? - far less so. 

But I’d like to believe that, some day, it would change, 
that to sink ships, at last, won’t be trendy or fair.
And, of course, I’ll come back - I would not get estranged,
but, of course, I’d return - you just give me a year.