It is better said when all the beauties are not
At home;
The way the sea sometimes comes in answering;
Oh,
The sea,
Giving its little works to the feet of men and
Indians;
In its dress partakes the recreations of our time,
And dolphins;
And the sun peeps through through the clouds and leaves:
There is a blond haired girl making love
Upon the shore:
A girl I once adored but can adore no more since
She took my heart and gave it to her lover next door:
And words fail me in the darkness:
You know they do; and you have a candle right there on your
Lips,
But you…. But you….
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem