I washed in your soul
trying to keep
one pair on me..
It is only the rocky shore
I walk,
I need to be aware of.
I see the edge, cut the feet
of all the souls, as they
march into her foamy sea.
I hope the sand will feel a
need to talk, as I wash
the queens feet and
all those like her
before they go, with they
whom walked here before me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem