She wants to know
what is so special
about this beach –
been here a hundred times before
under a hundred skies unnoticed
arched across that rock
that is the only constant
in a hundred seas –
the sea is luminous;
a string of single purple clouds
forms a bruised line across the blue –
I say: it’s just a rock, out there:
it doesn’t have to mean the same to you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.