Cool the water splashes, playing from curve to line,
Jet blue, like a fountain, flows on the heels of time
Waves rise full hull to heaven, slowing the climb at last,
Almost touching clouds, as ever they swell so fast
Sparkling with crystal presence, tides of a murmuring call,
Then crashing down with violence, as they begin the fall
Driftwood caresses ankles, there on the shores of sand,
Left seashells free for taking, in the smooth hands of man.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Amazingly vibrant poem, with the power of waves pushing it onward.