Blisters of pebbles rise through sun-tanned sand,
Waves topple like dynasties.
Tonnage of salt, slippage of tide,
The wreck of an April day
Melting into the strand in gritty shards.
Scabby with barnacles, ghost-posts rise from the spray
Where gulls like crosses flex angelic wings.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem