My father was a main sailor,
the courageous and handsome man
Of course He always went out,
And could not come back again.
once he send me the letter,
When ocean was looking his eyes,
He didn't have pieces of paper,
That's why he was scratching the ice.
The ice didn't have a tough nature,
His ice melted near my bank
And all he scratched, all figures
Became just a steam, It was frank.
I felt all his thoughts, I know it!
He wanted to tell "I love you"
But he couldn't do it, he sailed,
And I waited the time of his news.
It's a destiny of children of sailors -
The waiting for unseen words,
When their fathers cut a blue colors
Of the sea, of the very big World.