Let nothing oppose the breeze
brushing these waters where I bathe my body.
Freshness of summer fills with vitality the lost speech.
Cured of accents that hurt memory
he who carries noon on his back
stops off in the aroma of the lime tree.
The washer-women laugh loudly in the ravine.
Let nothing oppose the breeze of the sea
freeing the heart from impurities.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem