i run my fingers on rock's surface
i could imagine compacted sand
million years ago and subjected
to intense heat that gives shine
to its texture; solid and heavy looks
but no match to constant pounding
of the sea; trying to reduce to bits
sea growth absorbs frequent slaps,
invites tiny crabs, shrimps to shelter.
cracks traps soil from rain floods
where seeds grow to beautiful grass
to hide the jagged edges from my eyes
where rats, cats wait stealthily for crabs
for seafood meal; or just play with them
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem