Approaching the sea,
The smell of sand and seaweed
Forms pictures of sea snails,
Making trails,
In the shallow waters
When the tide is out.
The lowering sun reflects,
Many times like an echo,
Painted upon sparkling water
Between islands of wet sand.
The waves beyond never
Ceasing their approach to the shore.
(3.8.8 Travels)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem