sleeping upon
a hammock one
Sunday morning
i forget mondays
and fridays
i leave paperworks
to their beds
the air is salty
the leaves are deep
green
the sea is showy
with its waves
the sands are white
and hermit crabs
are playing with
the foams
the seagulls are
coming in flocks
finding a school of
fish for a catch
i must have slept
so soundly
i cannot even remember
if i dreamed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem