Sea sick 🤢

I must once more descend to the seas, to the lonesome water and the sky. All I ask for is a tall ship and a star to guide her.
Additionally, there is a gray mist on the sea's surface and a gray morning breaking, as well as the wheel kicking, the wind singing, and the white sail trembling.

I have to return to the seas because the running tide is calling me once more. All I ask in return is for a windy day with white clouds flying, flung spray and blown spume, and cries of the seagulls.

All I ask for is a good yarn from a laughing fellow traveler, and quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick is over. I must return to the seas, to the life of a wandering gypsy, to the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind is like a whetted knife.