The August sun in full glow,
sea-breeze, refreshing, the salted cold drink.
Sunday, ya, another day, but then the turn,
I met her, the one I've heard so much.
This day, she sang, free as a bird, cuckoo,
waving, smiling, tapping and hitting notes,
lifting souls with her pert heart,
singing to the king, a new song.
I saw her walk, missed by yards,
lost in thought - work and blood.
Then a surprise, a pleasant one;
she's next to me, 'hi, how di'?
On her wheels, her 'soul mate', she was;
lost in pleasant words, I was.
The loving sun then became rude,
she left, 'it's hot out here'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem