I do not know where the seagulls nest,
where they can find peace.
Like them, I exist
in perpetual flight.

I brush against life,
not unlike how they drink or capture their prey.
And I love the calm — as perhaps do they —
the great calm of the sea,
but my fate is to live
as a spark in the storm.

Non so dove i gabbiani abbiano il nido, 
ove trovino pace. 
Io son come loro 
in perpetuo volo. 

La vita la sfioro 
com'essi l'acqua ad acciuffare il cibo. 
E come forse anch'essi amo la quiete, 
la gran quiete marina, 
ma il mio destino è vivere 
balenando in burrasca.