an old man with throw net on his shoulder
watching patiently any sign of fish; under
that calming sea hurrying to shore; sparkling
to wishes of eastern red sun rising; kissing
sweet bloom on summer day can't help cherish
fragrance teasing my lips to taste of mist
you're there besides me rubbing our elbows
leaving footprints on sand in neatly rows
to vanish beneath bubbles taken to the depth
only you and me knows what, what we should keep
and when you put your lips together be calm
think of me, my voice and when i wave my hand
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem