Adam Mickiewicz - "Akermanian Steppes"
I entered the dry expanse of the ocean
The wagon plunges into green and wades like a boat,
In the midst of a wave of rustling meadows, amidst the flood of flowers,
I avoid the coral spikes of the storm.
Already is the dusk approaching, nowhere a road to be found nor the burial mound;
I look at the sky, In search of stars, boat guides;
There a cloud shines in the distance - there the dawn rises;
Here the Dniester sparkles, here the lamp of the Akermania arose.
Let's stop! - how quiet! - I hear pulling cranes,
Which the pupils of the falcon would not catch;
I can hear the butterfly swaying on the grass
Where the herbs touch the breast of a slippery snake.
In such silence - I strain my curious ear so,
That I could hear a voice from Lithuania. - Let's go, no one is calling.