Black clad, rubber-skinned lad
Plods by, hauling his ungainly board.
Determined, barefoot, to solidly pad
Beachward, where wavlets afford
Little real surf - - - - but it's Sunday!
And come rain or shine
It's frog-footed Surf-day!
Rather his effort than mine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I thought it was going to be about surfing the net on a lazy sunday fay, but the other kind is just as good... Andrew 10