The selfish sun gathers hoards to the shore.
Parties of people decamp,
floating towels onto their chosen patch.
Toddlers transfixed by the sea,
tangle in their togs: beach-bums.
Swimmers squeal, tiptoeing their way
to the required depth,
Others bound with looping legs;
attempting to ignore the tide's temperature.
Waves crash and bang, as bare-chested builders decide
where sandcastles won't subside.
Sunbathers bask to the shushing of sun-sprays;
parasols protect the fairer kind.
Magnums are munched; ice-cream cones rotated
on outstretched tongues, saving the sand-bound drips.
Children clutch kite-strings; letting too their laughter
soar on the salted air.
Eventually evening intervenes, forcing the sun
to relinquish its solar grip.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem