Scrawny like unfed geese in the spring;
these teenage mid-child girls
that floats through solid harbour attention
on their way to blue ocean’s mass
with only a smile to support them.
White froth flies through the first gate,
terms are not yet drawn.
What dark there is beneath the waves
murmurs seaweed syllables of anticipation.
A firm thrust breaks the mirror,
a moon salmon shines in the silver water.
A taste for immortality is all
any being can ask for.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem