When August winds are turning,
The fishing boats set out upon the sea,
I watch ´til they sail out of sight,
The winter follows soon,
I watch them drawn into the night,

Beneath the August moon.

No one knows I come here,
Some things I don´t share,
I can´t explain the reasons why,
It moves me close to tears,
Or something in the season´s change,
Will find me wandering here.

And in my public moments,
I hear the things I say but they´re not me,
Perhaps I´ll know before I die,
Admit that there´s a reason why,
I count the boats returning to the sea,
I count the boats returning to the sea.

And in my private moments,
I drop the mask that I´ve been forced to wear,

But no one knows this secret me,
Where albeit unconsciously,
I count the boats returning from the sea,
I count the boats returning from the sea.