Palm tree fronds, swaying in the sun.
It was that state, the California one.
I surmised that the beauty came from this state.
I remember from the heat, my thirst did slake.
California wind and California surf,
Which other land should I walk on it's turf?
I would rather spend one million years here,
Than in any other place far or near.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem