Classic Poem

7. Questionings.
At night by the sea, the wide-stretching sea,
Stands a youthful man,
His brain is all doubt, his heart all sorrow,
With sad lips, the waves he gloomily questions:
" The riddle of life, oh, solve me,
Tormenting primeval riddle,
Which so many heads have pondered:
Heads in hieroglyphical caps,
Heads both in turbans and black birettas,
Powdered, wigged heads, and a thousand other
Sweating, hard-working, poor human heads.
Say — What is the meaning of man?
Say whence he has come and whither he goes,
Who dwells up above the gold stars of heaven? "
Their murmur the waters are ceaselessly murmuring,
The wind gently stirs, the cloudlets are floating,
The bright stars are twinkling, indifferent, cold —
And a Fool waits for answer.