he studied the sea so often
he sensed its presence
his intuition knew danger
in the riptide
he could not save them all
some would die
he heard the rhythm of surf
in his dreams
the hands that reached
might pull him under
when he awoke
the sun was a fever
then there came the time
for him to leave
he looked one last time
at the horizon
he could not save himself
a wave was building
the tide no one can escape
would take him in
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem