same stuff
different days
same evasive stuff really
moving hours
tiring days most of the times
but one makes the decision
to color days with summer
sun and cold winds
and beach
relaxations
same stuff but always
with different outlooks
renovating innovations
respecting life
enjoying bodies
tanning and resting eyes
upon bluer horizons
farther farther
imaginations dreaming
unthinking
things
under the tree
hands restive upon
the green blanket on
the white sands
on a Sunday
morning
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem