Beside the sea, beside the empty midnight sea,
stands the boy-man,
heart full of longing, head full of fears,
and dry-lipped he questions the waves:

“O answer for me the Riddle of Life,
that thorny, ancient riddle
so many heads have tried to crack,
heads in hieroglyphic hats,
heads in turbans and black berets,
powdered wigs and a thousand other
helpless sweating human noggins –
tell me, what is the Meaning of Man?
Whence does he come? Where does he go?
Who lives up there on those golden stars?”

The waves murmur their ageless murmur,
it blows, clouds over, clears again,
the stars twinkle, indifferent and cold,
and a fool waits for an answer.