At Matarangi we run,
Like wild horses upon the beach,
Among the scattered shells,
And dry rough seaweed,
I dance over the rocks like a ballerina at a concert.
In morning we spring,
Across the tussock grass,
Towards the beach,
As we hear the waves calling our names.
At noon we wade through the rock pools,
Watching the sea-anemones sway,
Pulling cats eyes from the rocks,
And seeing them sink back into their shells.
At dusk we listen,
To the waves crashing upon the shore,
And the sound of the tide drifting in and out,
Until we fall into a deep sleep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem