I was alone, on a beach of wonders and joy,
Sand scrubbed my ankles, holding the box
With fury, a little way inland there was the worry.
I had possibilities, and the acts of a day constructed
A few dreams that worked, and worked like a gloved hand
In distress and achievement.
I saw through my suit a parade on the beach,
The sands collected like a graph of subjugation,
No complications arose, as the flowers were just seaweed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem