Boca do Inferno Photographer

Vasili I.

The wind whistling around... In white foam shafts...
The grey coast was covered with fog...
Not a soul ... I'm alone on top of a rock,
Over the ocean roaring in the morning!
White moss on the rock and ice in the crevice...
The old snow is stale, not melting...
Wild stone everywhere black mass rises,
Yes, the flow escapes through the gorges...
On the eaves around all the birds in the darkness,
All the grey birds in rows.
Look down at them like the sea on a rock,
Like a cloud lies over the waves...
Eternal DIN, chatter... Someone screams in the distance...
Just someone crying over the sea...
Yes, on the edge of all floating ships,
A white sail sometimes flashes..