tents sprouting like mushrooms
tired feet laying on water soaked
sand; looking up sky searching
for unknown; interrupted by galls
looking for crumbs to feast on
it's getting cold as sun hides
gas lamp slowly lights up shore
music drifting from clubhouse
almost a mile away, soothing
boiling pot ready to reveal
aroma of far eastern cuisine
as kids line-up with their plates
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem