Sitting out on the dock
Listening to the pontoon rock
A brisk breeze blows through the trees
I imagine myself out on the seas
A sailor from a distant land
In search of treasure, vast and grand
Oh how the imagination loves to run wild
Like it did when I was a child
Each little ripple, a crashing wave
A twinkle in the distance, a treasure cave
Imagination, Oh how grand
All sparked from some simple sand
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem