She sat there, solitary, on the white sand
long-stretching into distance infinite,
on a weekday deserted, only the seagulls
calling in harsh tones across the wide waters.
Locks of her black hair falling, she sat there,
perhaps playing with the green seaweed
washed on the beach by the tides of cold evenings.
Strange traveller in time, I thought, age cannot touch you
here, beside the sea that shines like a blue jewel
reflecting the azure eternity of the sky;
and I almost spoke as I passed -
for the wind came in gusts from the sandhills and swirled around her
and the waves crashed endlessly against the sand at her feet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.