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• Artiste: Sting
• Titre: August Winds
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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.