sailed from the island of coron
that early morning of saturday
leaving hanging cliffs and rowdy
boat with blue and white sails
passing by the big waves of the
pacific ocean rocking the wooden
boat that we have taken for the
trip to el nido: clouds like feathers
hang above us as we go coastal passing
white shorelines teeming with coconut
trees seemingly the other islands
are not inhabited and we heard the
sound of mocking monkeys playing
with the hanging vines of Comping.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem