The speaker begins with a strange confession: they miss a sea they don't actually know. It's a longing without a clear object, a homesickness for something never experienced. The next lines gather fragments of what that sea might hold: "the otherwise things," the "way of ice," bells and bonfires, the land seen at night. These images feel half-remembered or half-imagined, vivid in their strangeness but never quite pinned down.
Then the poem turns inward. The speaker admits, "I do not see much," and ends on "an indifferent heart." That last phrase is blunt and a little cold. It suggests the speaker can feel the pull of something larger and more alive, yet senses their own heart isn't answering it, or isn't able to. The mood is quiet, wistful, and slightly bleak. The poem leaves us with a gap between what might exist out there and the limited, numb way the speaker looks at the world.