Down the seashore
Tourists frolick in the sand
the sea tempest tossed of crest high
And I hold the trough at the bottom low
Not restraining watching the swimmers
Up the yacht on a simmering sea
A thousand others gulping the sea salt water
They lost their bid and drift a sea
The sign is far
I am looking at the island from a dizzying cliff
And soon I am down
Wave tossed to a waiting cove
Here I am near the light house
After toil, with pain and joy
To where the ships get their call up signal
To come or to go
And here I am
I have come to ask
Am I clean to have a passage?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem