The low light of the closing day
Spreads across the drifts and speckles
It's slanting beams laugh and play
On the beach's face and freckles;
Restless grains of South Shields sand
Like the surface of the moon,
Shifting fragments of our beloved land
Brown sugar in a spoon;
Evening comes, the setting sun
Slides under the blackened deep
One day lost, another to be won
As the beach follows us to sleep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem