There is time to be found around here
With the rollers of the sea
Surfing themselves into oblivion,
Against the fury of easels in the wind
Showing the squares of complimentary colour
Making lightning on the clear easels.
The shore is spread
With a thousands inspirations
Installed in the white lantern.
Pegged ouy in careful displays,
Brazen, striking solid or sombre,
In shapes and in no shapes,
Big and shouting, some softly
Facing the obdurate communion of the waves.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem