Back up its access of sand
And around, still dusty-hot
Swirling, felt I fizz past me
To smile, a day-memory.
Moulded not as Summer's last!
Last, shore-breaking, weighed not.
Teared engulfing, tumbling o'er.
For its coldness, salted more.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem